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IT  LEE  DURHAM 


GIFT  OF 

Mrs.    Loye   Holmes   1,111 1< 


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(a. 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 


"HAYWARD    .    .    .    SENT   PRINCE    WILLIAM    AFTER    THE 
MARE    UNDER   PRESSURE    OF    THE    SPUR." 

(See  page 


The  Call  of  the 
South 


By 

Robert   Lee   Durham 


Illustrated  by 

Henry    Roth 


"  When  your  Fear  Cometh  as  Desolation    and 
Tour  Destruction   Cometh  as   a    Whirlwind" 


Boston      ¥      ¥       L.   C.   Page  & 
Company     ¥     MDCCCCVIII 


Copyright,  /go8 
BY  L.  C.  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

(INCORPORATED) 


Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London 


All  rights  reserved 


First  Impression,  March,  1908 


COLONIAL   PRESS 

Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  C.  tf.  Simonds  &•  Co. 
Boston,  U.  S.  A. 


TO  THE 
LION   OF   HIS   TRIBE 

Stanetoall  ^acfeson  SDurfcara 


S 
3507 


List   of  Illustrations 


"  HAYWARD  .  .  .  SENT    PRINCE    WILLIAM    AFTER    THE 

MARE      UNDER     PRESSURE     OF    THE     SPUR"   (Seepage 

114}     ........         Frontispiece 

"  CARRIED  HIM  FOR  FORTY  YARDS  OR  MORE  THROUGH 

THE  HURRICANE  OF  LEAD"  .....  52 
"HIS  WHIP  WAS  DESCENDING  AGAIN  WHEN  JOHN'S 

PISTOL  FLASHED" 98 

"  ELISE    .    .    .    STOPPED    SHORT     IN     THE    DOORWAY  —  AND 

TURNED  QUICKLY  BACK  "  .         .         .         .         .         .126 

"'I  AM  HIS  WIFE,'  SHE  SAID"          .....     312 

"  HIS  ARMS  UPON  HIS  DESK  AND  HIS  FACE  UPON  HIS 

ARM  —  DEAD" 386 


V 


The  Call  of  the  South 


CHAPTER    I 

THE  President  had  called  upon  the  Governors  for 
troops;  and  the  hrilliantly  lighted  armory  was 
crowded  with  the  citizen-soldiers  who  followed  the 
standards  of  the  yist  Ohio,  waiting  for  the  bugle  to 
call  them  to  order  for  the  simple  and  formal  ceremony 
of  declaring  their  desire  to  answer  the  President's  call. 

A  formal  and  useless  ceremony  surely :  for  it  was 
a  foregone  conclusion  that  this  gallant  old  regiment, 
with  its  heroic  record  in  two  wars,  would  volunteer 
to  a  man.  It  was  no  less  certain  that,  presenting 
unbroken  ranks  of  willing  soldiers,  it  would  be  the 
first  selected  by  the  Governor  to  assist  Uncle  Sam's 
regulars  in  impressing  upon  the  Kaiser  the  length 
and  breadth  and  thickness  of  the  Monroe  Doctrine. 

For  many  bothersome  years  the  claimant  nations 
had  abided  by  the  Hague  Tribunal's  award,  though 
with  evidently  decreasing  patience  because  of  Ven 
ezuela's  lame  compliance  with  it.  Three  changes  of 
government  and  dwindling  revenues  had  made  the 
collection  of  the  indebtedness  by  the  agent  of  the 
claimants  more  and  more  difficult.  Finally  on  the 

1 


2  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

6th  of  January,  191 — ,  Senor  Emilio  Mariana  exe 
cuted  his  coup  d'etat,  overthrew  the  existing  govern 
ment,  declared  himself  Protector  of  Venezuela,  and 
"  for  the  people  of  Venezuela  repudiated  every  act 
and  agreement  of  the  spurious  governments  of  the  last 
decade,"  seized  the  customs,  and  gave  the  agent  of  the 
creditor  allies  his  passports  in  a  manner  more  effect 
ive  than  ceremonious :  all  of  this  with  his  weather  eye 
upon  the  Monroe  Doctrine  and  a  Washington  admin 
istration  in  some  need  of  a  rallying  cry  and  a  divert 
ing  issue. 

The  Kaiser's  patience  was  exhausted,  and  his  army 
and  navy  were  in  the  pink  of  condition.  On  the  loth 
of  January  his  ministers  informed  the  allies  that  their 
most  august  sovereign  would  deal  henceforth  with 
Venezuela  as  might  seem  to  him  best  to  protect  Ger 
many's  interests  and  salve  the  Empire's  honour. 

In  less  than  a  week  the  President  sent  to  Congress 
a  crisp  message,  saying  that  the  Kaiser  and  the  great 
doctrine  were  in  collision.  The  Senate  resolution 
declaring  war  was  adopted  after  being  held  up  long 
enough  to  permit  fifty-one  Senators  to  embalm  their 
patriotism  in  the  Congressional  Record,  and,  being 
sent  to  the  House,  was  concurred  in  in  ten  minutes 
after  the  clerk  began  to  read  the  preamble. 

The  country  was  a-tremble  with  the  thrill  and  ex 
citement  of  a  man  who  is  preparing  to  go  against  an 
antagonist  worthy  of  his  mettle,  and  in  the  /ist's 
armory  a  crowd  of  people  jammed  the  balconies  to 
the  last  inch.  The  richly  varicoloured  apparel  of 
the  women,  in  vivid  contrast  to  the  sombre  walls  of 
the  armory,  the  kaleidoscopic  jumble  and  whirl  of 
soldiers  in  dress  uniforms  on  the  floor,  the  frequent 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  3 

outbursts  of  hand-clapping  and  applause  as  favourite 
officers  of  the  regiment  were  recognized  by  the  gal 
leries,  the  surging  and  unceasing  din  and  hubbub  of 
the  shouting  and  gesticulating  mass  of  people  on  floor 
and  balcony,  gave  the  scene  a  holiday  air  which  really 
belied  the  feelings  of  the  greater  number  both  of  sol 
diers  and  onlookers.  There  was  a  serious  thought 
in  almost  every  mind :  but  serious  thoughts  are  not 
welcome  at  such  times  to  a  man  who  has  already 
decided  to  tender  his  life  to  his  country,  nor  to  the 
woman  who  knows  that  she  must  say  good-bye  to  him 
on  the  morrow.  So  they  both  try  to  overwhelm  un 
welcome  reflections  by  excited  chatter  and  patriotic 
enthusiasm.  They  will  think  of  to-morrow  when  it 
comes :  let  the  clamour  go  on. 

On  the  very  front  seat  and  leaning  over  the  balcony 
rail  are  seated  three  women  who  receive  more  than 
the  ordinary  number  of  salutes  and  greetings  from  the 
officers  and  men  on  the  floor.  Two  young  women 
and  their  mother  they  are,  and  any  one  of  the  three 
is  worthy  of  a  second  glance  by  right  of  her  looks. 
The  mother,  who,  were  it  not  for  the  becoming  ful 
ness  of  her  matronly  figure,  might  be  mistaken  for 
an  elder  sister  of  the  older  daughter,  has  a  face  in 
which  strength  and  dignity  and  gentleness  and  kind 
liness  and  a  certain  air  of  distinction  proclaim  her  a 
gentlewoman  of  that  fineness  which  is  Nature's  pat 
ent  of  nobility.  The  older  daughter  is  a  young 
woman  of  eighteen  years  perhaps,  inheriting  her 
mother's  distinction  of  manner  and  dignity  of  car 
riage,  and  showing  a  trace  of  hauteur,  attributable 
to  her  youth,  which  is  continually  striving  with  a 
spirit  of  mischief  for  possession  of  her  gray  eyes  and 


4  THE    CALL   OF    THE    SOUTH 

her  now  solemn,  now  laughing  mouth.  The  younger 
daughter,  hardly  more  than  a  child,  has  an  undevel 
oped  but  fast  ripening  beauty  which  her  sister  cannot 
be  said  to  possess.  They  have  gray  eyes  and  erect 
figures  in  common;  but  there  the  likeness  ceases. 
The  younger  girl's  mass  of  hair,  impatient  of  its 
braids,  looks  black  in  the  artificial  light;  but  three 
hours  ago,  with  the  setting  sun  upon  it,  a  stranger 
had  thought  it  was-  red.  Her  skin  indeed,  where  it  is 
not  tinted  with  rose,  is  of  that  rare  whiteness  which 
sometimes  goes  with  red  hair,  but  never  unaccom 
panied  by  perfect  health.  She  has  been  straining  her 
eyes  in  search  of  some  one  since  the  moment  she 
entered  the  gallery,  and  finally  asks  impatiently, 
"  Why  doesn't  papa  come  out  where  we  can  see  him  ? 
The  people  would  shout  for  him,  I  know." 

"  Don't  be  a  fidget,"  answers  her  sister  in  a  low 
voice,  "  he  will  come  presently ;  "  and  continues,  "  I 
declare,  mamma,  I  believe  Helen  thinks  all  these  sol 
diers  are  just  for  papa's  glorification,  and  that  if 
papa  failed  to  volunteer  the  country  would  be  lost." 

"  Well,  there  isn't  any  one  to  take  his  place  in  the 
regiment,  for  I  heard  Captain  Elkhard  say  so." 

"  Captain  Elkhard  would  except  himself,  I  sup 
pose,  even  though  he  thought  like  you  that  papa  is 
perfection." 

"  Yes,  and  I  suppose  that  you  would  except  Mr. 
Second  Lieutenant  Morgan,  wouldn't  you?  Humph! 
he  is  too  young  sort,  too  much  like  a  lady-killer  to 
be  a  soldier.  I  don't  care  if  I  do  think  papa  is  per 
fection.  He  is  most  —  isn't  he,  mamma?" 

A  roar  of  applause  drowns  the  mother's  amused  as 
sent;  and  they  look  up  to  see  this  father,  the  colonel 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  5 

of  the  7ist,  uncover  for  a  moment  to  the  noisy  greet 
ing  whose  vigour  seems  to  stamp  with  approval  his 
younger  daughter's  good  opinion  of  him.  In  a  mo 
ment  a  trumpet-call  breaks  through  and  strikes  down 
and  overwhelms  all  this  clamour  of  applause,  and 
there  is  no  sound  save  the  hurrying  into  ranks  of  the 
men  on  the  floor.  Then  comes  the  confused  shouting 
of  a  dozen  roll-calls  at  once,  the  cracking  of  the 
rifle-butts  on  the  floor,  the  boisterous  counting  of 
fours,  a  succession  of  sharp  commands  and  trumpet- 
calls,  —  and  the  noise  and  confusion  grow  rapidly  less 
until  only  is  heard  the  voice  oi  the  adjutant  as  he 
salutes  and  presents  the  regiment  in  line  of  masses  to 
the  colonel,  saying,  "  Sir,  the  regiment  is  formed." 

A  short  command  brings  the  rifles  to  the  floor,  and 
there  is  absolute  quiet  as  every  one  waits  to  catch 
each  word  that  its  commander  will  say  in  asking  the 
regiment  to  volunteer.  But  Colonel  Phillips  knows 
the  value  of  the  psychological  moment  and  the  part 
that  emotion  plays  in  patriotism,  and  he  does  not  in 
tend  to  lose  a  feather-weight  of  force  in  his  appeal  to 
the  loyal  spirits  of  his  men.  So  he  brings  the  guns 
again  quickly  to  salute  as  the  colour-guard  emerge 
from  an  office  door  behind  him,  bearing  "  Old  Glory  " 
and  the  7ist's  regimental  colours;  and,  turning,  he 
presents  his  sword  as  the  field  music  sounds  To  the 
Colour  and  the  bullet-torn  standards  sweep  proud 
and  stately  to  their  posts  in  the  centre  battalion. 
This  sudden  and  unexpected  adaptation  of  the  cere 
mony  for  The  Escort  of  the  Colour,  which  for  lack 
of  space  is  never  attempted  in  the  armory,  is  not 
without  effect.  The  men  in  the  ranks,  being  re 
strained,  are  bursting  to  yell.  The  onlookers,  free 


6  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

to  cheer,  cannot  express  by  cheap  hand-clapping  what 
wells  up  in  them  at  sight  of  the  flags,  and  they,  too, 
are  silent.  When  the  rifle-butts  again  rest  on  the 
floor  the  Colonel  begins  his  soldierly  brief  address : 

"  The  President  has  asked  the  Governor  for  six 
regiments.  While  under  the  terms  of  their  enlistment 
he  could  name  any  he  might  choose,  he  prefers  volun 
teer  soldiers  as  far  as  may  be.  So  you  are  here  this 
evening  to  indicate  the  extent  of  your  willingness  and 
wishfulness  to  answer  the  President's  call.  I  need 
make  no  appeal  to  you.  The  /ist  is  a  representative 
regiment  in  its  personnel.  Its  men  are  of  all  sections 
and  classes  and  parties.  My  mother  was  a  South  Caro 
linian,  my  father  from  Massachusetts.  Your  colour- 
sergeant  is  a  Texan,  and  your  regimental  colours  are 
borne  by  a  native  of  Ohio,  grandson  of  him  who  placed 
those  colours  on  the  Confederate  earthworks  at  Peters 
burg.  You  in  the  aggregate  most  fitly  represent  the 
sentiment  of  the  whole  people  of  this  union  of  states. 
This  sentiment  is  a  loyalty  that  has  never  to  this  mo 
ment  failed  to  answer  a  call  to  arms.  It  is  not  to  be 
supposed  that  the  present  generation  is  degenerate 
either  in  courage  or  patriotism.  When  the  trumpet 
sounds  forward  the  ranks  will  stand  fast,  and  such  as 
for  any  reason  may  not  volunteer  will  fall  out  to  the 
rear  and  retire." 

At  the  lilting  call  there  was  silence  for  ten  seconds, 
in  which  not  a  breath  was  taken  by  man  or  woman  in 
the  house :  then  the  galleries  broke  out  to  cheer.  Not 
a  man  had  moved ;  though  not  a  few  felt  as  did  Cor 
poral  Billie  Catling,  who  remarked  to  his  chum  when 
the  ranks  were  dismissed,  "  It's  going  to  be  devilish 
hard  for  my  folks  to  get  along  without  my  salary; 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  7 

but  to  fall  out  to  the  rear  when  that  bugle  said  '  for 
ward  '  •  —  damned  if  I  could  do  it." 

One  of  the  most  deeply  interested  spectators  of  the 
scene  in  the  armory  had  stood  back  against  the  wall 
in  the  gallery  during  the  whole  time,  and  had  appar 
ently  not  wished  to  be  brought  into  notice  of  the  crowd, 
mostly  women,  packed  in  the  limited  gallery  space. 
His  goodly  length  enabled  him  to  see  over  the  heads 
of  the  other  spectators  everything  of  interest  happen 
ing  on  the  floor.  A  long  overcoat  could  not  conceal 
his  perfectly  developed  outlines ;  and  many  heads  were 
turned  to  look  a  second  time  at  him,  attracted  both 
by  his  appearance  and  by  the  fact  that  he  seemed  to 
be  an  utter  stranger  to  every  one  around  him,  not  hav 
ing  changed  his  position  nor  spoken  to  a  soul  since 
coming  up  into  the  gallery.  He  was  broad  of  shoul 
der,  full-chested,  straight-backed,  with  a  head  mag 
nificently  set  on;  and  had  closely  cropped  black  hair 
showing  a  decided  tendency  to  curl,  dark  eyes,  evenly 
set  teeth  as  white  as  a  fox-hound's,  a  clean-shaved 
face  neither  full  nor  lean,  and  pleasing  to  look  upon, 
a  complexion  of  noticeable  darkness,  yet  all  but  white 
and  without  a  trace  of  colour.  While  nine-tenths  of 
the  people  who  saw  him  that  evening  had  no  impres 
sion  at  all  as  to  his  race  or  nationality,  an  observant 
eye  would  have  noted  that  he  was  unobtrusively  but 
unmistakably  a  negro. 

He  had  been  quite  unconscious  of  anything  around 
him  in  his  absorbed  interest  in  the  ceremony  below 
him.  This  manifest  interest  was  evidenced  by  his 
nervous  hands  which  he  clinched  and  opened  and  shut 
as  varying  expressions  of  enthusiasm,  resentment  and 
disappointment,  humiliation,  disdain  and  determina- 


8  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

tion  came  and  went  over  his  face.  He,  Hayward  Gra 
ham,  had  applied  to  enlist  in  this  regiment  a  month 
before,  and  had  been  refused  admission  because  of  the 
small  portion  of  negro  blood  in  his  veins,  —  and  that 
in  a  manner,  too,  that  added  unnecessary  painfulness 
to  the  refusal.  He  rather  despised  himself  for  coming 
to  witness  the  regiment's  response  to  the  call  for 
troops,  but  his  patriotic  interest  and  his  love  for  his 
friend  Hal  Lodge,  who  had  loyally  assisted  his  effort 
to  enlist  in  the  7ist,  overcame  his  pride,  and  he  had 
come  to  see  the  decision  of  Hal's  enthusiastic  wager 
that  nine-tenths  of  the  regiment  would  volunteer. 

The  first  trumpet-call  had  stirred  his  enthusiasm, 
only  to  have  it  turned  to  chagrin  and  resentfulness 
when  the  roll-calls  brought  to  him  the  realization  that 
his  name  was  not  among  the  elect,  and  the  black  hu 
miliation  of  the  thought  that  he  might  not  even  offer 
to  die  for  his  country  in  this  select  company  because 
he  was  part  —  so  small  a  part  —  negro ;  and  he 
gnawed  his  lips  in  irritation.  But  when  the  flags  had 
come  in  so  suddenly  —  he  involuntarily  straightened 
up  and  took  in  his  breath  quickly  to  relieve  the  smoth 
ering  sensation  in  his  throat,  and  forgot  his  wrongs  in 
an  exaltation  of  patriotic  fervour. 

He  stood  abstracted  for  some  time  after  the  out 
flow  from  the  galleries  began,  and  came  down  just 
behind  the  three  women  of  the  Colonel's  family.  At 
the  foot  of  the  stairs  Lieutenant  Morgan  met  the 
party  and  said,  "  Mrs.  Phillips,  the  Colonel  told  me  to 
bring  you  ladies  over  to  his  office." 

"  So  that's  the  Colonel's  wife  and  daughters," 
thought  Graham,  as  he  passed  out  into  the  street. 
"  Where  have  I  seen  that  little  one?  " 


CHAPTER    II 

AFTER  lingering  at  the  entrance  of  the  armory  foi 
a  few  minutes  to  see  Hal  Lodge,  and  failing  to  fine 
him,  Graham,  still  gloomily  and  resentfully  meditat 
ing  upon  his  rejection  by  the  regiment,  started  briskl} 
toward  the  temporary  lodgings  of  h'is  mother  anc 
himself  as  if  he  had  some  purpose  in  mind.  Arrivec 
there,  he  began  catechizing  her  even  while  removing 
his  overcoat. 

"  Look  here,  mother,  put  down  that  work  foi 
awhile,  and  tell  me  all  about  my  people." 

"What  is  it,  Hayward?  What  do  you  want  tc 
know?"  his  mother  asked. 

"  I  want  you  to  tell  me  all  about  my  father  anc 
grandfathers  and  grandmothers,  everything  you  kno\\ 
-  who  they  were,  and  what  they  were,  and  what  the) 
did,  and  where  they  lived  —  the  whole  thing." 

"  And  what  is  the  matter  that  you  want  to  kno\\ 
all  that  at  once?  Are  you  still  worrying  about  no1 
getting  into  that  regiment  ?  " 

'  Yes ;  I  want  to  know  why  I  am  not  good  enougt 
to  go  to  war  along  with  respectable  people  —  if  then 
is  any  reason." 

"  Honey,  you  are  just  as  good  as  any  of  them,  anc 
better  than  most.  I  wouldn't  think  about  it  any  more 
if  I  were  you." 

!l  Well,  I'm  not  going  to  think  about  it  any  more 

9 


10  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

—  after  to-night ;  but  I  want  to  know  all  about  it 
right  now.  Where  was  father  from?  You  have 
never  told  me  that." 

"  Well,  honey,  I  don't  know  myself ;  for  he  never 
told  me  nor  any  one  else  that.  All  I  know  is  that 
something  —  he  never  would  say  what  —  made  him 
leave  his  father  and  mother  when  he  was  not  twenty 
years  old  and  he  never  saw  them  afterwards,  - 
didn't  let  them  know  where  he  was  or  even  that  he 
was  alive.  Your  pa  was  mighty  high-spirited,  and 
he  never  seemed  to  forget  whatever  it  was  that  came 
between  him  and  his  father;  though  he  would  talk 
about  him  some  too,  and  appeared  to  worship  his 
mother's  memory.  They  must  have  been  very  prom 
inent  people  from  what  he  said  of  them.  His  mother 
died  very  soon  after  he  left  home,  he  told  me;  and 
your  grandfather  was  killed  not  long  after  that  in  a 
battle  right  at  the  beginning  of  the  war,  I've  heard 
him  say;  but  he  didn't  seem  to  like  to  talk  of  them." 

"  Didn't  father  say  which  side  my  grandfather  was 
on?" 

"  On  our  side  —  the  Union  side." 

"  And  father  was  in  the  war?  " 

"  Yes,  but  I  forget  what  he  did.  He  had  some  sort 
of  a  badge  or  medal  tied  up  with  a  red,  white  and 
blue  ribbon  that  I  found  in  his  trunk  after  he  died; 
but  I  gave  it  to  you  to  play  with  when  you  were  little 
and  you  lost  it.  That  had  something  to  do  \vith  the 
war,  but  I  didn't  understand  exactly  what.  He  didn't 
like  to  talk  about  the  war.  When  we  were  first  mar 
ried  he  used  to  say  that  the  war  was  the  first  battle 
and  the  easiest,  and  that  he  was  enlisted  for  the  sec 
ond  and  intended  to  see  it  through.  But  before  he 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  11 

died  I  often  heard  him  say  that  the  war  was  only 
clearing  away  the  brush,  and  what  the  crop  would  be, 
depended  on  what  was  planted  and  how  it  was  tended, 
and  that  his  great-grandchildren  might  see  the  har 
vest." 

"Where  did  you  first  meet  him?" 

"  Down  in  Alabama.  He  went  down  there  soon 
after  the  war  to  teach  school,  just  as  I  did.  I  had 
been  to  college  and  got  my  diploma  and  I  wanted  to 
teach ;  but  it  seemed  I  could  not  get  a  position  in  the 
whole  State  of  New  Hampshire.  So  when  some  of 
the  people  offered  to  send  me  down  to  Alabama  to 
teach  the  negroes,  I  went.  Your  father  had  a  school 
for  negroes  not  very  far  from  mine,  and  he  had  had 
a  hard  time  from  the  very  first.  None  of  the  respect 
able  white  people  would  have  anything  to  do  with 
him,  and  he  could  not  get  board  from  any  one  but 
negroes.  But  the  worse  the  people  treated  him  the 
harder  he  worked,  and  his  school  grew.  Finally  it 
became  so  large  that  he  could  not  do  the  work  alone. 
He  tried  every  way  to  get  another  teacher,  but  could 
not.  As  a  last  resort  he  asked  me  to  combine  my 
school  with  his  and  see  if  we  could  not  manage  in 
that  way  to  teach  all  the  children  who  came.  I  never 
saw  anybody  \vith  a  heart  so  set  as  his  was  on  giving 
every  little  negro  a  chance  to  learn. 

"  So  we  combined  the  schools  and  were  getting 
along  very  well  when  one  day  as  your  father  was 
coming  out  of  the  post-office  in  the  little  town  near 
which  we  taught,  a  young  man  named  Bush  stepped 
up  in  front  of  him  and  cursed  him  and  said  something 
about  me  that  your  father  never  would  tell  me.  Your 
father  knocked  him  down  and  he  was  nearly  killed 


12  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

by  striking  his  head  against  a  hitching-post  as  he  fell. 
The  next  morning  a  committee  of  some  of  the  citizens 
came  to  the  schoolhouse,  and  Colonel  Allen,  who  was 
one  of  them,  told  your  father  that  the  community 
was  greatly  aroused  by  the  condition  of  affairs,  and 
that  the  injury  done  to  young  Bush,  while  they  didn't 
approve  of  Bush's  conduct,  had  brought  the  trouble 
to  a  head.  He  said  that  sober-minded  citizens  didn't 
want  any  outbreak,  but  that  the  peculiar  relation  ex 
isting  between  your  father  and  me  outraged  the  sen 
timents  of  every  respectable  man  and  woman  in  the 
county." 

"Did  father  hit  him?" 

"  No,  honey;  but  he  rose  right  up  without  waiting 
to  hear  any  more  and  told  Colonel  Allen  that  as  for 
the  injury  to  young  Bush  he  had  done  nothing  more 
than  defend  the  good  name  of  a  woman  and  had  no 
apologies  or  explanations  to  offer.  He  talked  quite 
a  long  time  to  them,  and  I  could  see  that  they  didn't 
like  some  of  the  things  he  said.  As  he  finished  he 
told  them  that  he  could  see  that  our  condition,  cut  off 
as  we  were  from  association  with  respectable  people 
by  prejudice  and  from  the  lower  classes  because  of 
their  dense  ignorance,  and  thrown  into  intimacy  by 
our  work,  was  somewhat  unusual,  but  that  was  be 
cause  of  conditions  we  could  not  control  and  be  true 
to  our  work.  He  would  try  to  arrange,  he  told  them, 
if  they  would  give  him  a  week,  so  that  there  would 
be  no  grounds  for  these  criticisms.  They  asked  him 
what  he  proposed  to  do,  but  he  said  he  couldn't  an 
swer  them  then. 

"  They  gave  him  the  week  he  asked  for,  and  left 
us.  He  dismissed  the  school  when  the  committee  was 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  13 

gone,  and  when  all  the  children  had  scampered  out  of 
the  schoolhouse  he  told  me  that  while  we  could  not 
be  blamed  for  the  way  things  had  come  about,  it  was 
true  that  our  being  so  much  together  and  cut  off  from 
everybody  else  gave  our  critics  a  chance  to  talk,  and 
his  solution  of  the  difficulty  was  for  us  to  be  married 
-  at  once.  He  went  on  to  say  a  whole  lot  of  things, 
honey,  that  I  never  imagined  he  thought  of,  and 
wound  up  by  declaring  that  I  owed  it  to  the  work 
we  had  begun  to  make  any  sacrifices  to  carry  it  on. 
Now,  honey,  there  was  never  a  better,  braver  man 
than  your  father,  nor  a  better  looking  one,  I  think) 
and  there  was  no  reason  why  I  should  not  love  him. 
I  was  younger  then  than  I  am  now  and  I  was  not  a 
bad-looking  girl  myself,  and  I  did  not  think  till  long 
afterwards  that  when  he  spoke  of  my  sacrifices  he 
was  thinking  of  his  own. 

"  Well,  he  made  what  arrangements  were  necessary 
that  evening,  and  we  were  married  by  a  Bureau  of 
ficer  of  some  kind  or  other  next  morning  before  time 
for  school.  When  school  assembled  he  sent  a  note 
by  one  of  the  boys  to  Colonel  Allen,  saying  that  we 
had  arranged  the  matter  so  that  there  could  be  no 
further  objection  to  our  running  the  school  on  to 
gether,  and  informed  him  that  \ve  were  married." 

"  And  what  reply  did  Colonel  Allen  send  to  that 
note?"  Hayward  asked  his  mother  with  great  inter 
est. 

"  He  didn't  send  any,"  she  replied ;  "  but  came 
along  with  some  others  of  the  committee  in  about 
half  an  hour  to  bring  his  answer  himself." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"  Well,  he  started  off  by  saying  to  your  father  that 


14  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

there  could  be  no  doubt  that  what  we  had  done  would 
make  the  people  forget  their  former  objections,  but 
he  thought  it  would  be  because  the  former  offence 
against  their  notions  of  propriety  would  be  lost  sight 
of  in  their  unspeakable  indignation  at  this  method 
we  had  adopted,  which,  he  said,  struck  at  the  very 
foundation  of  their  civilization.  He  talked  very  high 
and  mighty,  I  thought,  and  though  he  pretended  to 
try  to  hold  himself  down  and  not  get  mad,  he  ripped 
and  charged  a  long  time  right  there  before  the  whole 
school,  and  finally  told  us  he  would  do  all  he  could 
to  keep  the  people  from  doing  us  harm,  but  he  ad 
vised  us  to  leave  the  community  just  as  soon  as  we 
could,  as  he  wouldn't  be  responsible  for  the  result  of 
our  act." 

"What  did  father  say  to  that?"  Hayward  asked 
eagerly. 

"  Well,  he  waited  until  Colonel  Allen  got  through 
and  then  said  very  quietly  that  he  had  done  what  he 
had  because  he  had  appreciated  the  force  of  the  ob 
jections  that  had  been  raised  to  our  intimate  associa 
tion  and  was  always  willing  to  be  governed  by  the 
proprieties,  but  that  he  did  not  agree  with  Colonel 
Allen  about  uprooting  any  principle  of  civilization, 
that  times  and  conditions  had  changed,  and,  while  he 
knew  the  sentiment  of  the  people  would  be  against 
our  marriage,  he  thought  that  sentiment  was  wrong 
and  would  have  to  give  way  before  the  pressure  of 
the  new  order  of  things,  that  the  law  had  married  us 
and  we  would  look  to  the  law  to  protect  us.  He  said 
that  the  work  we  were  doing  was  worthy  of  any 
man's  effort,  that  he  had  consecrated  himself  to  it  and 
was  not  going  to  be  driven  from  it  by  any  predictions 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  15 

of  danger,  that  I  was  his  wife  and  he  would  protect 
me." 

"  What  did  the  honourable  committee  think  of 
that?" 

"  I  don't  know.  Colonel  Allen  and  the  other  men 
just  turned  around  without  saying  another  word  and 
left  the  schoolhouse." 

"  Did  you  run  the  school  on  after  that?" 

'  Yes,  honey,  but  not  for  long.  One  night  when 
those  awful  people  came  to  destroy  things  at  the 
schoolhouse  as  they  had  done  several  times  before, 
your  father  was  there  to  meet  them  and  identify  them. 
Instead  of  running  away  as  he  thought  they  would, 
they  crowded  around  him,  and  after  a  struggle  in 
the  dark  they  left  him  lying  just  outside  the  door  with 
a  broken  arm,  a  pistol-ball  through  his  side,  and  un 
conscious  from  a  lick  on  the  head.  Some  of  the  col 
oured  people  who  lived  near  there  heard  the  row, 
and  after  it  was  all  over  and  all  those  folks  were  gone, 
they  slipped  up  there  and  found  your  father  and 
brought  him  home. 

"  It  was  hard  for  us  to  get  a  doctor  at  first.  A 
young  one  who  lived  nearest  to  us  wouldn't  come, 
though  we  sent  for  him,  and  we  were  all  frightened 
nearly  to  death.  We  could  hear  those  awful  people 
yell  every  once  and  awhile  away  off  on  all  sides  of 
the  house,  then  they  would  fire  off  guns  and  pistols 
—  it  was  an  awful  night,  Hayward.  At  last  old 
Doctor  Wright  came  about  three  o'clock  in  the  morn 
ing.  He  lived  ten  miles  or  more  from  us,  and  we 
thought  that  your  father,  who  was  raving  and  moan 
ing,  would  surely  die  before  he  got  there.  But  the 
old  doctor  told  us  as  soon  as  he  examined  him  that 


16  THE    CALL   OF    THE    SOUTH 

he  would  pull  through  all  right.  He  said  that  he  had 
been  a  surgeon  in  Stonewall  Jackson's  corps  and  that 
he  had  seen  men  forty  times  worse  hurt  back  in  the 
army  in  two  months.  That  made  us  feel  a  great  deal 
better,  I  tell  you.  Your  father  came  to  his  senses 
before  the  old  man  quit  working  with  him,  and  when 
he  heard  that  the  young  doctor  had  refused  to  come 
to  see  him  (because  he  was  scared,  the  negro  who 
went  for  him  said),  and  that  the  old  man  had  ridden 
so  far  through  a  very  cold  and  wet  night  to  help  him, 
I  never  heard  any  one  say  more  to  express  his  thanks 
than  your  father  did.  The  old  doctor  listened  to  it 
all  without  making  any  answer  except  an  occasional 
grunt.  When  he  got  ready  to  go  home  I  asked  him 
if  he  would  not  prefer  to  wait  till  daylight,  for  fear 
those  awful  men  would  hurt  him." 

"And  did  he  wait?"  interrupted  Graham. 

"  No.  He  stiffened  up  as  straight  as  his  rheuma 
tism  would  let  him  and  stumped  indignantly  out  of 
the  house  with  his  pill-bags  in  one  hand  and  in  the 
other  an  old  pair  of  home-knit  woollen  gloves  he 
wouldn't  stop  to  put  on  —  I  can  see  him  now." 

"  Did  he  ever  come  back?  "  asked  Graham. 

"  Oh,  yes.  The  sight  of  him  on  his  tall  pacing  bay 
mare  made  us  glad  every  two  or  three  days  till  your 
father  got  well." 

"  The  old  doctor  evidently  didn't  agree  with  his 
neighbours  about  you  and  father,  then." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that.  He  never  would  dis 
cuss  our  troubles  or  speak  any  words  of  sympathy; 
and  on  the  last  day  he  came,  when  your  father  was 
thanking  him  as  he  had  done  so  often  for  his  kindness 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  17 

to  him,  the  old  man  asked  him  in  his  rather  curt  man 
ner,  '  Don't  they  need  school-teachers  up  north  ? ' 

"  Did  you  and  father  leave  that  place  as  soon  as 
he  got  well  ?  " 

"  No.  Your  father  said  that  we  would  stick  to  it 
to  the  end ;  and  as  soon  as  he  was  able  to  teach  we 
opened  the  school  again,  but  in  less  than  a  week  the 
schoolhouse  was  burned  down.  We  rented  another 
after  some  trouble,  but  that  was  burned  promptly 
also.  Then  it  became  impossible  to  get  one. 

"  We  decided  it  would  be  best  for  us  to  go  away 
to  some  place  where  the  people  were  not  prejudiced 
against  us.  We  moved  more  than  a  dozen  times,  but 
were  never  able  to  stay  longer  than  a  few  months  at 
most,  and  often  had  to  pack  up  almost  before  we 
finished  unpacking.  Finally  we  lost  all  hope  of  being 
able  to  teach  the  negroes  in  the  South,  and  decided 
to  go  home.  Your  father  did  go  so  far  as  to  suggest 
that  if  I  would  go  back  North  and  leave  him  down 
there  alone  the  people  might  not  molest  him.  He 
certainly  did  have  his  heart  in  the  work.  As  I  did 
not  like  the  idea,  however,  he  dropped  it." 

"  And  that's  wrhen  father  got  the  professorship  at 
Oberlin?" 

"Yes;    and  kept  it  till  his  death." 

"  I  can  hardly  recollect  father  at  all,"  said  the  son, 
"  though  it  seems  sometimes  I  remember  how  he 
looked.  I  wish  I  could  have  been  older  before  he 
died." 

:i  Well,  you  were  not  two  years  old  at  your  fath 
er's  death,  Hayward,  and  really  saw  very  little  of 
him.  He  never  seemed  to  care  for  children.  Your 


18  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

two  sisters  that  died  before  you  were  born  —  it 
seemed  that  sometimes  a  week  would  pass  without 
his  being  conscious  that  they  were  in  the  house.  He 
was  so  absorbed  in  his  work  that  he  didn't  have  time 
for  anything  else.  His  hard  work  and  disappoint 
ment  over  the  failure  that  he  had  made  down  South 
was  what  killed  him,  I  have  always  thought.  Though 
he  lingered  for  many  years,  he  was  so  broken-spirited 
after  we  went  to  Ohio  that  his  health  gave  way,  and 
he  was  not  more  than  a  shadow  when  he  died.  I 
am  not  sorry  that  you  do  not  remember  how  he  looked 
at  the  last. 

"  But,  honey,"  the  mother  continued  after  some 
moments  of  silence,  "  you  ought  to  be  proud  of  your 
father.  I  wish  you  could  have  heard  the  funeral  ser 
mon  Doctor  Johnson  preached.  He  did  not  say  any 
thing  about  your  father's  being  in  the  war  of  the 
rebellion,  but  he  told  about  his  trials  and  struggles 
to  teach  the  negroes  in  the  South,  and  said  that  in 
that  work  John  Graham  was  as  much  a  soldier  and 
was  as  brave  and  faithful  as  any  man  who  ever  fought 
for  the  flag.  If  these  folks  here  could  have  heard 
that  sermon  they  never  would  have  voted  to  keep  you 
from  joining  the  regiment." 

"  Oh,  it's  not  because  of  what  my  father  did  or  did 
not  do,"  said  Graham  impatiently ;  "  nor  is  it  because 
of  what  I've  done  or  left  undone,  nor  of  what  they 
think  I  would  do  or  would  not  do  if  they  kindly  per 
mitted  me  to  enlist.  No,  no.  It's  because  I'm  part 
negro  —  though  I'm  quite  as  white  as  a  number  I  saw 
there  to-night.  Now,  mother,  exactly  how  much  negro 
am  I  ?  You've  told  me  your  father  was  a  white  man ; 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  19 

but  who  was  your  mother,  and  what  do  you  know 
about  her  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  father  was  a  white  man.  He  was  a 
German  just  come  over  to  this  country.  He  had  a 
beer  saloon  in  a  New  Hampshire  town  —  at  least  he 
bought  it  afterwards.  He  worked  in  the  saloon  when 
my  mother,  who  had  run  away  from  Kentucky,  was 
hired  to  work  in  his  employer's  house.  He  boarded 
there  and  she  was  treated  something  like  a  member 
of  the  family,  although  she  was  a  servant,  and  they 
were  married  after  awhile.  Some  few  of  the  people 
didn't  like  it,  I've  heard  mammy  say,  but  they  got 
along  without  any  trouble ;  and  when  my  father 
saved  up  some  money  he  bought  the  little  saloon  from 
his  employer  and  made  some  little  money  before  he 
died.  We  had  a  hard  enough  time  getting  it,  though, 
goodness  knows.  I  moved  back  to  New  Hampshire 
from  Ohio  after  your  father's  death  in  order  to  push 
the  case  through  the  — 

"  Yes,  yes,  I've  heard  that  before,"  said  Hay  ward ; 
"  but  tell  me  about  your  mother's  running  away  from 
her  master.  You  have  never  told  me  anything  about 
her,  except  that  her  name  \vas  Cindy  or  Lucinda,  and 
that  she  belonged  to  General  Young." 

"  Well,  honey,  she  was  just  a  slave  girl  that  be 
longed  to  General  Young  over  in  Kentucky.  She 
ran  away  and  got  across  the  river  without  being 
caught,  and  some  of  the  white  people  helped  her  to 
get  on  as  far  as  New  Hampshire  and  got  her  that 
place  to  work  where  my  father  boarded.  She  and 
my  father  were  — 

"  Yes,   yes,    I   know,"    the    son    interrupted   again, 


20  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

"  but  what  made  her  run  away  and  leave  her  father 
and  mother  —  did  she  know  her  father  and  mother?  " 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  remember  it  all,"  said  the 
mother  evasively,  "  and  it  doesn't  make  any  difference 
anyway." 

"  Oh,  well,  go  on  and  tell  what  you  know  or  have 
heard.  Let's  get  at  the  bottom  of  it.  I  declare  I  be 
lieve  you  don't  like  my  being  a  negro  any  better  than 
those  dudes  in  the  7ist." 

The  mother  laughed  at  his  statement;  and  seemed 
pleased  at  the  interruption,  for  she  made  no  move  to 
proceed  with  the  narrative.  Graham  looked  at  her 
quietly  a  few  moments,  and,  ascribing  her  reticence  to 
unwillingness  to  descant  upon  the  negro  element  in  her 
ancestry,  which  was  indeed  a  part  but  a  very  small  part 
of  her  motive,  repeated  his  demand  for  information 
sharply. 

"  Oh,  honey,"  cried  his  mother,  "  don't  ask  me  any 
more  about  it.  I  just  made  mammy  tell  me  all  about 
her  father  and  mother  and  her  running  away  from 
Kentucky,  and  I  wish  to  the  Lord  I  never  had!  It 
was  just  awful." 

"  So!  Well,  now  I  must  know.  Go  on  and  tell  it. 
The  quicker  you  do  the  sooner  it  will  be  over.  Go 
on,  I  say.  What  was  your  mother's  father  named?  " 

"  Gumbo  —  Guinea  Gumbo." 

"  Poetic  name  that !  And  her  mother's  name,  what 
was  it?" 

"  Big  Lize." 

"  Not  so  poetic,  though  it  sounds  like  some  poetry 
I've  read,  too.  And  now  what  did  this  pair  do  or  suffer 
that  was  so  terrible?  It's  no  use  dodging  any  longer." 

"  Well,  child,  if  I  must,   I   suppose  I  must.     My 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  21 

mother's  mother  didn't  do  anything  that  was  awful ; 
but  Guinea  Gumbo  —  I  wish  I  knew  I  was  no  kin  to 
him.  Mammy  said  he  was  brought  right  from  Africa 
and  was  as  wild  as  a  wolf.  Nobody  could  understand 
much  that  he  said,  and  General  Young  had  a  time 
keeping  him  from  tearing  things  up.  He  used  to  run 
away  and  stay  in  the  swamp  for  weeks  at  a  time.  The 
children  on  the  place,  black  and  white,  were  as  scared 
of  him  as  death,  and  none  of  the  slave  women  would 
ever  go  about  him  if  they  could  help  it.  Not  long 
after  General  Young  bought  him,  Gumbo  and  his  first 
wife,  who  was  brought  over  from  Africa  with  him, 
had  the  plans  all  fixed  to  steal  one  of  the  General's 
little  boys,  five  or  six  years  old,  and  carry  him  off  to 
the  river-swamp  and  have  a  regular  cannibal  feast  of 
him.  General  Young  found  -it  out  in  time;  and 
mammy  said  the  old  negroes  on  the  plantation  said 
that  was  what  killed  the  woman,  the  whipping  she  and 
Gumbo  got  for  it.  It  laid  Gumbo  up  for  a  long  time, 
but  he  got  over  it.  It  seemed  that  nothing  but  shoot 
ing  could  kill  him." 

"  Did  they  shoot  him  to  kill  him?  What  was  that 
for?"  asked  Graham. 

"  Honey,  that  is  the  awful  part  of  it.  Mammy  said 
that  one  day  her  young  mistis,  the  General's  oldest 
daughter,  didn't  come  home  from  a  ride  she  had  taken, 
and  the  whole  plantation  was  turned  out  to  find  her. 
But  some  one  came  along  and  told  the  General  that  she 
had  eloped  across  the  river  with  a  young  man  he  had 
forbidden  to  come  on  the  place,  and  all  the  people  on 
the  plantation  went  back  to  their  quarters.  As  the 
young  man  could  not  be  found,  everybody  thought  that 
he  and  Miss  Lily  had  run  away  and  married  and  were 


22  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

too  much  afraid  of  her  father  to  come  back  home. 
The  next  day,  however,  the  young  man  turned  up,  and 
swore  he  had  not  seen  Miss  Lily  in  a  week.  Then  the 
plantation  was  in  terror.  —  Honey,  I  can't  tell  you 
the  rest.  -  -  They  found  her.  —  When  they  were  call 
ing  out  all  the  people  from  the  quarters,  the  Gen 
eral  learned  that  Gumbo  had  not  been  seen  since  Miss 
Lily  was  lost.  He  had  run  away  so  often  that  no 
attention  was  paid  to  it,  for  he  always  came  back  after 
a  time.  — •  They  got  the  bloodhounds,  mammy  said, 
and  went  to  the  swamp.  After  a  long  time  the  dogs 
struck  Gumbo's  trail,  and  —  yes,  they  found  her,  — 
tied  hands  and  feet  and  her  clothing  torn  to  strings, 
in  a  kind  of  hut  made  of  bark  and  brush  way  back  in 
the  swamp.  She  was  dead,  but  she  had  not  been  dead 
an  hour,  from  a  gash  in  her  head  made  by  an  axe. 
The  dogs  followed  a  hot  scent  from  the  hut  for  an 
other  hour,  and  led  the  men  to  where  they  had  run 
Gumbo  down.  That  was  where  they  shot  him  —  and 
left  him.  He  still  had  the  axe,  and  had  killed  one  of 
the  dogs,  and  nobody  could  get  to  him.  They  didn't 
want  to,  I  suppose." 

Graham  had  listened  to  his  mother's  last  words 
without  breathing,  and  when  she  stopped  he  dropped 
his  face  in  his  hands  with  a  groan.  .  .  .  She  began 
again  in  a  few  moments : 

"  Mammy  said  that  when  they  brought  her  young 
mistis  back  home  the  General  went  off-  in  a  fit,  and 
raved  and  cursed  till  the  doctors  and  the  rest  of  'em 
had  to  hold  him  to  keep  him  from  killing  somebody. 
Mammy  was  one  of  her  old  mistis's  house-girls,  and 
she  heard  all  the  General's  ravings  and  screams  that 
he  would  kill  every  nigger  on  the  place;  and  he  kept 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  23 

it  up  so  long  and  kept  breaking  out  again  so  after 
they  thought  they  had  him  pacified  that  mammy  said 
she  was  scared  so  bad  she  just  couldn't  stay  there 
any  longer :  and  that's  what  made  her  run  away  the 
very  next  night.  She  had  a  hard  time  getting  across 
the  river,  but  after  she  got  over  safe  she  didn't  have 
much  trouble,  for  some  of  the  white  people  took 
charge  of  her  and  helped  her  to  get  further  on  north. 
Pappy  always  said  - 

"  Oh,  Lord,  that's  enough !  "  the  son  broke  in,  rais 
ing  his  head  out  of  his  hands,  and  interrupting  his 
mother's  flow  of  words,  of  which  he  had  noted  little 
since  hearing  the  tragic  story  of  his  savage  great 
grandfather.  He  rose  from  his  chair  impatiently. 

"  So  I  am  Hayward  Graham,  son  of  Patricia 
Schmidt,  daughter  of  Cindy  —  nothing,  daughter  of 
Gumbo  —  nothing." 

"  Guinea  Gumbo,"  corrected  his  mother. 

"  Oh,  I  beg  my  distinguished  ancestor's  pardon  for 
presuming  to  credit  him  with  only  one  name.  A  gen 
tleman  with  his  record  ought  to  have  as  many  as 
Kaiser  Bill,"  drawled  Graham  sarcastically.  Then 
with  better  humour  he  said  to  his  mother,  "  And  will 
you  please  to  inform  me  from  which  of  your  ancestors 
you  inherited  that  name  of  Patricia?" 

"  Mammy  named  me  that  for  her  old  mistis." 

Graham  stood  for  awhile  looking  at  the  blank  wall. 
Then  he  spoke  as  if  he  had  settled  his  problem. 

:<  Yes,  I'm  a  negro  — no  doubt  about  that;  and  a 
negro  I'll  be  from  to-morrow  morning." 

"  Why,  honey,  you  are  not  going  to  lower  your 
self  to  —  " 


24 

"  No,  no.  I'm  not  going  to  lower  myself  to  any 
thing;  but  I'm  going  to  go  with  my  own  crowd, 
where  I'll  not  be  insulted  by  people  who  are  no  better 
than  I  am.  I  got  along  very  well  at  college,  but  these 
people  here  are  different.  I'll  show  'em.  I'll  go  to 
the  war,  and  I'll  get  as  much  glory  out  of  it  as  any 
of  'em.  My  father  was  a  soldier,  and  his  father  died 
in  battle:  I  rather  guess  I  can't  stay  out  of  it.  Good 
night,  mummer." 

And  he  took  himself  off  to  bed. 


CHAPTER    III 

HAYWARD  GRAHAM  was  twenty-three  years  old. 
He  had  half  finished  his  senior  year  at  Harvard  — 
with  credit,  it  must  be  said  —  when  the  imminence 
of  war  drove  all  desire  for  study  from  his  mind.  He 
wrote  to  Harry  Lodge  a  former  college  chum  who 
had  graduated  in  the  class  ahead  of  him  and  gone  to 
Ohio  to  make  a  name  for  himself  —  fortune  he  had 
already  —  and  asked  that  his  name  be  proposed  for 
membership  in  Lodge's  company  of  the  7ist,  as  a 
regiment  most  likely  to  get  in  the  scrimmage  when 
it  came.  Lodge  had  done  this  and  had  written  to 
Graham  that  doubtless  he  would  be  received  on  the 
next  meeting  night  as  war  was  at  that  time  a  cer 
tainty.  Whereupon  Graham  had  bundled  up  his 
traps  and  come  without  delay. 

Graham's  mother  also  had  travelled  to  Ohio,  for 
the  double  purpose  of  telling  her  soldier  good-bye 
and  making  a  passing,  and  what  promised  to  be  a 
last,  visit  to  some  of  her  old  Oberlin  friends,  drawing 
for  expenses  upon  limited  funds  she  had  religiously 
hoarded  and  applied  to  her  son's  tuition. 

Her  husband  had  always  impressed  upon  her,  and 
in  his  last  moment  enjoined,  that  the  boy  should  be 
educated;  and  she  had  obeyed  his  wishes  to  the  limit 
of  her  power  and  as  a  command  from  heaven.  She 
had  husbanded  her  small  patrimony,  recovered  after 

25 


26  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

a  costly  suit  at  law,  slow-dragging  through  the  New 
Hampshire  courts,  and  had  allowed  it  to  accumulate 
while  her  son  was  in  the  graded  schools  against  the 
time  when  it  would  be  needed  to  send  him  to  college. 
When  that  time  had  come  it  required  no  little  faith 
to  see  how  the  small  bank  account  would  be  sufficient 
to  meet  the  expenses  of  four  years  at  Harvard.  She 
would  better  have  sent  the  boy  to  a  less  expensive 
school,  but  no:  John  Graham  had  gone  to  Harvard, 
and  nothing  less  than  Harvard  for  his  son  would  sat 
isfy  her  idea  of  loyalty  to  his  father's  memory  and 
admonitions.  So  to  Harvard  she  sent  him,  while  she 
planned  and  worked  to  stretch  and  patch  out  the  lim 
ited  purse ;  and  —  miracle  of  financiering  —  she  had 
fetched  him  to  the  half  of  his  last  year,  and  could  have 
carried  him  to  his  graduation  and  still  had  enough 
dollars  left  to  attend  that  momentous  ceremony  in  a 
new  frock. 

Hayward  Graham  had  repaid  his  mother's  sacrifices 
by  diligence  in  his  studies.  He  had  been  a  close  sec 
ond  to  the  leader  of  his  class  at  the  graded  school,  an 
exemplary  and  hard-working  pupil  in  the  •  grammar 
school,  and  at  college  his  literary  labours  were  dimin 
ished  only  by  his  efforts  in  athletics,  which,  indeed, 
did  his  work  as  a  student  little  serious  damage.  He 
was  quick  to  learn  everything  that  his  college  career 
offered,  not  only  the  lore  of  books,  but  good-fellow 
ship,  easy  manners  and  how  to  get  on.  His  nat 
urally  friendly  disposition  did  him  little  service  at  first 
in  finding  or  making  friends  at  Harvard,  where  there 
seemed  to  him  to  be  so  many  desirable  circles  that 
he  would  be  glad  to  enter,  and  he  had  thought  for 
awhile  his  colour  would  bar  him  from  any  close 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  27 

friendships  there.  However,  near  the  end  of  his 
freshman  year  he  had  occasion  by  personal  combat  to 
demonstrate  his  willingness  to  fight  for  the  honour  of 
his  class  and  to  show  that  his  pugilistic  powers  were 
of  no  mean  calibre,  by  thoroughly  dressing  down  a 
couple  of  sophomores  who  had  held  him  up  to  tell 
him  what  they  thought  of  the  whole  tribe  of  fresh 
men,  and  who,  upon  his  being  so  bold  as  to  take  issue 
with  them,  had  attempted  to  "  regulate  "  him.  Kind- 
hearted  Harry  Lodge,  himself  a  sophomore,  had  wit 
nessed  the  trial  of  Graham's  courage,  class  loyalty 
and  fistic  abilities,  and  being  struck  with  admiration 
had  shaken  hands  with  him  and  congratulated  him 
on  his  prowess.  From  that  moment  Graham  was  by 
every  token  a  member  of  the  small  coterie  known  as 
"  Lodge's  Gang,"  to  whom  Lodge  had  introduced 
him  as  "  the  only  freshman  I  know  that's  worth  a 
damn." 

From  the  time  of  his  admission  into  this  set  of 
good  fellows  Graham's  social  side  was  provided  with 
all  it  desired.  Lodge  and  his  friends  seemed  to  think 
nothing  at  all  of  Graham's  colour;  or,  if  they  did, 
made  the  more  of  him  in  their  enthusiastic  support 
of  the  idea  that  "  a  man's  a  man  for  a'  that."  They 
had  enough  rollicking  fun  to  keep  their  spare  hours 
filled  to  the  brim  and  sought  the  society  of  women 
very  seldom ;  but  when  they  did  go  to  pay  their  vows 
at  the  shrine  of  the  feminine,  Graham  was  as  often 
of  the  party  as  any  other  of  "  the  gang." 

The  young  women  they  visited  seemed  to  find 'no 
fault  with  his  coming;  for  he  could  do  his  share  of 
stunts,  had  a  good  voice  and  a  musical  ear,  and  was 
never  at  a  loss  for  something  to  say,  while  his  colour 


28  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

meant  no  more  to  them  than  that  of  a  Chinaman  or 
a  Jap.  He  was  promptly  and  effectually  smitten  with 
each  new  pretty  face  that  he  saw  on  these  occasional 
forays,  just  as  were  Hal  and  Jim  Aldrich ;  but  his 
ever-changing  devotions  showed  plainly  that  it  was 
as  yet  to  no  one  woman,  but  to  women,  that  his  soul 
paid  homage.  As  for  the  young  women,  any  of  them 
as  soon  would  have  thought  of  marrying  one  of  the 
Chinese  students  in  the  University  as  him.  In  fact 
they  did  not  associate  him  with  the  matrimonial  idea, 
but  were  interested  in  him  as  in  an  unusual  species 
of  that  ever-interesting  genus,  man.  They  made 
quite  a  lion  of  him  for  a  time  after  his  performance 
in  the  Harvard- Yale  football  game  of  19 — ;  so  much 
so  that  he  had  become  just  a  mite  vain,  which  condi 
tion  of  mind  precluded  his  falling  in  love  with  any 
body  for  several  weeks. 

It  was  right  at  the  height  of  his  popularity  that  he 
had  left  Harvard  to  join  the  ranks  of  the  7ist.  But 
Corporal  Lodge  had  written  with  too  much  assurance. 
Lieutenant  Morgan  of  Lodge's  company  caught  the 
sound  of  that  name,  Hayward  Graham,  and  remarked 
casually,  "  He  has  the  same  name  as  that  Harvard 
nigger  who  was  smashed  up  in  the  Yale  game." 

Some  of  the  men  thought  the  lieutenant  said  the 
applicant  was  a  negro,  and  began  to  question  Lodge. 
When  that  gentleman  stood  up  to  speak  for  his  friend 
he  quite  captured  them  with  his  description  of  Gra 
ham's  courage  and  other  excellences,  but  when  he 
answered  "  yes  "  to  a  direct  question  whether  his  can 
didate  was  a  negro,  the  enthusiasm  and  Graham's 
chance  of  enlistment  in  the  7ist  died  together,  and 
suddenly.  Lieutenant  Morgan,  who  was  presiding 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  29 

at  the  company  meeting,  sneered,  "  This  is  not  a 
negro  regiment,"  and  the  ballot  was  overwhelmingly 
adverse. 

Lodge  was  offended  deeply  at  Graham's  rejection, 
and  said  hotly  that  if  the  regiment  was  too  good  for 
Graham  it  was  too  good  for  him,  and  he  would  apply 
for  his  discharge  at  once.  Lieutenant  Morgan  replied 
drily  that  "  one  pretext  is  as  good  as  another  if  a  man 
really  doesn't  want  to  get  into  the  fighting."  This 
angered  Harry  to  the  point  of  profanity,  but  he 
thought  no  more  of  a  discharge. 

This  blackballing  of  his  name  was  Graham's  first 
rebuff,  and  it  bore  hard  upon  his  spirits.  He  had 
never  had  an  occasion  to  take  an  inventory  of  the  ele 
ments  in  his  blood,  and  this  sudden  jolt  to  his  pride 
and  eager  patriotic  impulses  made  him  first  angry, 
then  heart-sick,  then  cynically  scornful. 

The  morning  after  his  mother  had  gone  into  the  his 
tory  of  his  ancestry,  as  far  as  she  knew  it,  he  sought 
an  army  recruiting  station  without  delay.  The  gray- 
headed  captain  in  charge  did  not  betray  the  surprise 
he  felt  when  Graham  told  him  he  desired  to  enlist,  — 
his  recruits,  especially  negroes,  did  not  often  come 
from  the  class  to  which  Graham  evidently  belonged. 

"  May  I  join  any  branch  of  the  service  I  prefer?  " 
Hayward  asked. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  officer;  and  added,  as  a  fleeting  sus 
picion  entered  his  mind  that  this  negro  might  intend 
passing  himself  off  for  a  white  man  if  possible,  "  that 
is,  of  course,  infantry  or  cavalry.  There  are  no  ne 
groes  in  the  artillery." 

Graham  winced  in  spite  of  himself  at  this  blunt 
reminder  of  his  compromising  blood,  and  mentally  re- 


30  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

sented  the  statement  as  an  unnecessary  taunt.  But  he 
had  determined  to  fight  for  the  flag  if  he  had  to  swal 
low  his  pride,  and  he  was  quickly  put  through  all  the 
necessary  formalities  of  enlistment.  His  physical 
qualifications  aroused  the  unbounded  admiration  of 
the  examining  surgeon,  who  called  the  old  captain 
back  into  the  room  where  Graham  stood  stripped  for 
the  examination,  to  look  upon  his  perfect  physique. 

"  I  don't  know  about  that  broken  leg,  though,"  the 
surgeon  said.  "  How  long  has  it  been  well  ?  " 

"  I've  had  the  full  use  of  it  for  more  than  a  month 
now,"  Graham  answered.  "  It's  as  good  as  the  other, 
I  think.  It  wasn't  such  a  bad  break  anyway." 

"How  did  you  break  it?" 

"  In  the  Yale  game  at  Cambridge  last  November." 

"  Say,"  the  surgeon  broke  out,  "  were  you  the  Har 
vard  man  that  was  laid  out  in  that  last  rush  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  I  saw  that  game,"  the  surgeon  went  on ; 
"  and  I  say,  Captain,  be  sure  to  assign  this  young 
fellow  to  a  regiment  that  will  get  into  the  scrimmage. 
Nothing  but  the  firing-line  will  suit  his  style." 

"  Which  do  you  prefer,  infantry  or  cavalry  ?  "  ques 
tioned  the  Captain  briefly. 

"  As  I've  walked  all  my  life,  I  think  that  I'll  ride 
now  that  I  have  the  chance,"  Graham  answered. 

"  Very  well.  You  are  over  regulation  weight  and 
length  for  a  trooper,  but  special  orders  will  let  you  in 
for  the  war  only." 

"  The  fighting  is  all  I  want,"  said  Graham. 

"  All  right,"  replied  the  officer.  "  I'll  send  you  to 
the  loth.  They  have  always  gotten  into  it  so  far,  and 
it's  likely  nobody  will  miss  seeing  service  in  this  affair." 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  31 

Graham  was  given  a  suit  of  uniform  and  ordered 
to  report  morning  and  afternoon  each  day  till  his 
squad  would  be  sent  to  join  the  regiment.  He  car 
ried  the  uniform  to  a  tailor  to  have  it  fitted  to  his 
figure,  in  which  he  took  some  little  pride ;  and  lost 
no  time  in  getting  into  it  when  the  tailor  had  finished 
with  it,  and  hurrying  to  parade  himself  before  his 
mother's  admiring  eyes.  That  worthy  woman  was  as 
proud  of  him  as  only  a  combination  of  mother  love, 
womanly  admiration  for  a  soldier,  and  a  negro's  sur 
passing  delight  in  brass  buttons,  could  make  her. 

Graham  busied  himself  with  the  study  of  a  book 
on  cavalry  tactics  borrowed  from  the  old  sergeant  at 
the  recruiting  station,  and  with  that  experienced  sol 
dier's  help  he  picked  up  in  the  ten  days  that  elapsed 
before  he  was  sent  away  no  little  knowledge  of  the 
business  before  him.  He  was  an  enthusiastic  student, 
took  great  pains  to  perfect  himself  in  the  ceremonious 
side  of  soldiering,  and  delighted  in  the  punctilios 
which  the  regulations  prescribed.  He  went  at  every 
opportunity  to  witness  the  drills  of  the  national  guard 
troops  who  were  preparing  to  leave  for  the  front ; 
and  began  to  acquire  the  feeling  of  superiority  which 
the  regular  has  for  the  volunteer,  and  to  sniff  at  the 
little  laxities  of  the  guardsmen,  and  with  the  air  of 
a  veteran  comment  sarcastically  upon  them  to  the 
old  sergeant :  till  he  finally  persuaded  himself  that  his 
good  angel  had  saved  him  from  these  amateurs  to 
make  a  real  soldier  of  him. 

Two  days  before  Graham  was  sent  away  the  7ist 
gave  its  farewell  parade.  Graham  was  there,  of 
course.  It  was  near  sunset.  The  wide  street  was 
lined  with  spectators.  The  ranks  were  standing  at 


32  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

rest,  and  the  soldiers  and  their  friends  were  saying 
all  manner  of  good-byes.  The  band  was  blowing  it 
self  breathless  in  patriotic  selections,  and  as  it  crashed 
into  one  after  another  soldiers  and  people  cheered 
and  shouted  with  gathering  enthusiasm.  Colonel 
Phillips,  sitting  on  his  horse  by  his  wife's  carriage, 
said,  "  Orderly,  tell  Brandt  to  play  '  Dixie,'  "  and, 
addressing  the  crowd  of  friends  about  him,  "  My 
mother  was  a  South  Carolinian,"  he  added  jocularly. 
When  the  band  burst  in  on  that  unaccountably  inspir 
ing  air  the  assemblage  stood  on  its  toes  to  yell  and 
scream,  and  the  tall  Texas  colour-sergeant  came  near 
letting  "  Old  Glory  "  fall  in  the  dust  in  his  conscien 
tious  effort  to  split  his  lungs. 

Graham  stood  quite  near  the  Colonel  and  his  party, 
and  was  much  interested  in  watching  both  this  man 
of  wThom  he  had  heard  Harry  Lodge  speak  so  en 
thusiastically,  and  his  daughters,  Miss  Elise  and  Miss 
Helen,  who  were  abundantly  attractive  on  their  own 
account  without  the  added  distinction  of  being  chil 
dren  of  their  father.  It  was  interesting  to  him  to  note 
the  differing  expressions  of  patriotic  enthusiasm  as 
it  forced  itself  through  the  well-bred  restraint  of  the 
elder  sister  or  bubbled  up  unrestrainedly  in  the  un 
affected  girlish  spirits  of  Helen.  Her  spontaneous 
outbursts  were  irresistibly  fascinating  to  him,  and  he 
could  hardly  avoid  staring  at  her. 

When  the  parade  was  formed,  however,  he  was  true 
to  his  new  learning;  and  after  the  bugle  had  sounded 
retreat,  and  while  the  band  was  swinging  slow  and 
stately  through  that  grandest  and  most  uplifting  of 
military  airs,  "  The  Star-Spangled  Banner,"  he  for 
the  first  time  had  uncovered  and  stood  at  attention, 


33 

erect  and  stead  as  a  young  ash,  his  heart  thumping 
like  that  of  a  young  devotee  at  his  first  orison. 

As  he  looked  up  when  the  band  had  ceased,  he  met 
the  full  gaze  of  Helen  Phillips.  She  was  looking 
straight  at  him,  with  a  rapt  smile  upon  her  fresh  young 
face.  Then  he  remembered  where  he  had  seen  that 
face  before. 

It  was  at  that  Yale  game  at  Cambridge.  Harvard 
was  due  to  win ;  but  Yale  had  scored  once  in  the  first 
half,  and  all  but  scored  again  before  the  Harvard  men 
pulled  themselves  together.  During  the  intermission. 
Captain  "  Monk  "  Eliot  had  corralled  his  crimson  war 
riors  in  the  dressing-room  and  addressed  to  them  a 
few  disjointed  remarks  that  made  history. 

He  began  moderately;  but  as  he  talked  his  choler 
rose,  and  he  took  off  the  limit :  "  You  lobsters  are  the 
blankety-blankedest  crowd  of  wooden  Indians  that 
ever  advertised  a  dope-house.  You  seem  to  think 
you  are  out  here  for  your  health.  What  in  the  blank 
is  the  matter  with  you?  Do  you  think  Soldiers  Field 
is  a  Chinese  opium  joint  where  you  can  go  to  sleep 
and  forget  your  troubles?  Maybe  you  don't  want 
to  get  your  clothes  dirty,  or  you  are  afraid  some  big, 
bad,  blue  Yale  man  will  eat  you  up  without  salt.  Now 
look  here !  I  want  you  to  understand  that  we've  got 
to  win  this  game  if  it  breaks  every  damn  one  of  our 
infernal  necks,  and  if  any  of  you  overgrown  babies 
doesn't  like  what  I  say  or  hasn't  the  nerve  to  go  into 
the  second  half  on  that  basis,  just  say  so  right  now, 
damn  you,  and  I'll  give  you  the  job  of  holding  some 
man's  sweater  for  the  rest  of  this  game  —  and  we'll 
settle  it  when  it's  over." 

It  was  a  desperate  crowd  of  men  in  crimson  who 


34  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

went  into  that  second  half;  and  their  collision  with 
the  Yale  line  was  terrific.  But  Eli  didn't  seem  to 
change  his  mind  about  winning  the  game  —  for  he 
hadn't  heard  the  crimson  captain's  crimson  speech. 

For  twenty  minutes  the  giants  reeled  and  staggered 
in  an  equal  struggle.  Yale  then  saw  that  she  must 
win  by  holding  the  score  as  it  was,  and  began  all  man 
ner  of  dilatory  tactics.  This  drove  Captain  Eliot 
frantic.  He  must  score  in  five  minutes  —  or  lose. 
Fifty-five  yards  in  five  minutes  against  that  wall  of 
blue  fiends!  —  nothing  but  desperation  could  accom 
plish  it.  He  glanced  at  his  squad  of  reserves  on  the 
side-lines;  and  with  spendthrift  recklessness  that 
counted  not  the  cost  he  began  to  burn  men  up.  He 
sent  his  best  and  strongest  in  merciless  repetition 
against  the  weakest  —  no,  not  that  —  against  the,  least 
strong  man  in  the  Yale  line. 

Harvard  began  to  creep  forward  slowly,  so  slowly; 
and  the  five  minutes  were  no  longer  five,  but  four  — 
three  —  two  and  a  half  —  hurry !  Still  forward  the 
crimson  surged  with  every  hammering  shock.  But 
flesh  and  blood  could  not  stand  it!  Out  went  Field, 
the  pick  of  the  Harvard  flock,  carried  off  mumbling 
like  a  crazy  man,  with  a  bleeding  cut  across  his  fore 
head.  Next  went  Lee,  then  Carmichael,  then  Eliot 
himself,  after  a  desperately  reckless  dash,  with  a 
turned  ankle. 

Can  Harvard  score?  Perhaps,  —  if  the  time  and 
the  men  last  long  enough.  .  .  .  Graham  was  a  sub 
stitute.  Eliot,  supported  between  two  of  his  men  and 
breathing  threatenings  and  slaughter  against  those 
who  would  carry  him  off,  called  Graham's  name ;  and 
with  a  nervous  shiver  the  negro  was  out  of  his  sweater 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  35 

in  a  jiffy.  Eliot  whispered  to  the  crimson  quarter, 
"  Graham's  fresh ;  send  him  against  that  tackle  till  he 
faints." 

Bang  —  Smash.  Bang  —  Smash.  Yes,  he's  mak 
ing1  it  every  time,  but  hurry!  hurry! 

"  Kill  that  nigger,"  growls  Chreitsberg,  the  Ken 
tucky  Captain  of  the  Blue,  between  his  set  teeth :  and 
now  "  that  nigger  "  comes  up  with  his  nose  dripping 
blood,  next  with  his  ear  ground  half  off.  But  he  will 
score  this  time !  No,  the  Yale  eleven  are  on  him  like 
a  herd  of  buffaloes.  He  stands  up  and  draws  his  sleeve 
across  his  nose  with  a  determined  swipe.  Eliot 
screams  from  the  side-lines,  "  You  must  make  it  this 
trip  —  time's  up,"  • —  but  he  can't  hear  his  own  voice 
in  the  pandemonium. 

A  last  crunching,  grinding  crash,  —  and  the  twenty- 
two  maniacs  heave,  and  reel,  and  topple,  and  stagger, 
and  slowly  wring  and  twist  themselves  into  a  writh 
ing  mass  of  bone  and  muscle  which  becomes  motionless 
and  quiet  at  the  bottom  while  still  struggling  and  tear 
ing  without  let-up  on  the  outside.  They  refuse  to 
desist  even  when  the  referee's  whistle  sounds  the  end 
of  the  game,  for  no  man  knows  just  where  under  that 
mass  of  players  which  is  lying  above  the  goal-line 
is  the  man  with  the  ball.  The  referee  and  the  umpire 
begin  to  pull  them  off  one  by  one  in  the  midst  of  an 
indescribable  tumult :  and  at  the  bottom,  with  a 
broken  leg,  but  with  the  ball  hugged  tight  against  his 
breast  and  a  saving  foot  and  a  half  beyond  the  line, 
they  find  Graham. 

He  is  picked  up  by  the  roughly  tender  hands  of  his 
steaming,  breathless  fellows,  who  are  ready  to  cry 
with  exultation,  and  hurried  to  a  carriage.  It  was 


36  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

while  they  were  carrying  him  off  the  field  he  had  re 
deemed  that  he  first  saw  Helen  Phillips.  She  was 
standing  on  the  rear  seat  of  a  big  red  touring-car, 
waving  a  crimson  pennant  and  excited  beyond  meas 
ure.  As  she  looked  down  on  him  as  they  carried  him 
past,  there  came  into  her  face  a  look  of  childish  ad 
miration  and  pity  commingled;  and  she  hesitated  a 
moment,  then  impulsively  pitched  out  the  pennant  she 
held,  and  it  fell  across  his  chest  like  a  decoration  and 
was  carried  with  him  thus  to  his  room  across  the 
Charles. 

When  he  had  surprised  her  gaze  at  him  as  he  turned 
from  the  parade  of  the  7ist,  and  saw  her  smile  upon 
him,  he  thought  she  had  recognized  him  as  the  line- 
smashing  half-back,  —  and  he  very  properly  drew  in 
his  middle  and  shoved  out  his  chest  another  notch. 
But  not  so!  She  did  not  recognize  him  nor  remember 
him.  In  her  overflowing  patriotism  she  saw  only  a 
soldier  of  the  Republic;  and  her  smiling  face  had  but 
unconsciously  paid  tribute  to  an  ideal. 


CHAPTER    IV 

ON  the  first  day  of  April,  191 — ,  Hayward  Gra 
ham,  wearing  the  single-barred  yellow  chevrons  of  a 
lance-corporal  in  Troop  M  of  the  loth  Cavalry,  was 
sitting  flat  on  the  ground,  perspiring  and  inwardly 
grumbling  as  he  rubbed  away  at  his  sawed-off  rifle, 
and  mentally  moralizing  on  his  inglorious  condition. 
There  was  he,  almost  a  graduate  of  Harvard,  a  gen 
tleman,  accustomed  to  a  bath-tub  and  a  toothbrush, 
bound  up  hard  and  fast  for  three  years'  association 
with  a  crowd  of  illiterate,  roistering,  unwashed,  and 
in  the  present  situation  unwashable,  negroes  of  every 
shade  from  pale  yellow  to  ebony.  Why,  thought  he, 
should  negroes  always  be  dumped  all  into  one  heap 
as  if  they  were  all  of  one  grade  ?  Didn't  the  govern 
ment  know  there  were  negroes  and  negroes?  Whim 
sically  he  wondered  why  the  officers  didn't  sort  them 
out  among  the  troops  like  they  did  the  horses,  accord 
ing  to  colour,  —  blacks,  browns,  yellows,  ash-col 
oured,  snuff-coloured.  Then  what  possibilities  in 
matching  or  contrasting  the  shades  of  the  troopers 
with  those  of  their  mounts :  black  horse,  yellow  rider, 
—  bay  horse,  black  rider,  —  sorrel  horse,  gingersnap 
rider  —  no,  that  wouldn't  do,  inartistic  combination! 
And  what  colour  of  steed  would  tastily  trim  off  that 
freckled  abomination  of  a  sergeant  yonder?  Can't 
be  done,  —  scheme's  a  failure !  —  damn  that  sergeant 

37 


38  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

anyhow,  he  had  confiscated  Graham's  only  tooth 
brush  to  clean  his  gun  with.  Graham  again  records 
his  oath  to  thrash  him  when  his  three  years  is  up. 

But  three  years  is  an  age.  It  will  never  roll  round. 
Only  two  months  has  he  been  a  soldier,  and  yet  every 
thing  that  happened  before  that  is  becoming  vague 
—  even  the  smile  on  Helen  Phillips'  face.  He  cannot 
close  his  eyes  and  conjure  up  the  picture  as  he  did  at 
first. 

Graham  was  out  of  temper.  Cavalry  wasn't  what 
it  is  cracked  up  to  be,  and  a  horse  was  of  more  trouble 
than  convenience  anyway,  he  was  convinced.  In  the 
battle-drills  the  men  had  been  put  through  so  repeat 
edly  day  after  day  the  horse  played  no  part,  and  what 
riding  Graham  had  done  so  far  had  served  only  to 
make  him  so  sore  and  stiff  that  he  could  neither  ride 
nor  walk  in  comfort.  He  heartily  repented  his  choice 
and  wished  he  had  taken  the  infantry,  where  a  man 
has  to  look  out  only  for  himself  and  his  gun.  Oh,  the 
troubles,  the  numberless  troubles,  of  a  green  soldier! 

All  of  Corporal  Graham's  military  notions  were 
affronted,  and  his  right-dress,  upstanding  ideas  of 
soldiering  were  shattered.  The  reality  is  a  matter 
of  pushing  a  curry-comb,  getting  your  nose  and  mouth 
and  eyes  filled  with  horse-hairs,  which  get  down  your 
neck  and  up  your  sleeves,  and  stick  in  the  sweat  and 
won't  come  off  and  there's  no  water  to  wash  them 
off.  Then  the  drills  —  save  the  mark !  —  not  as  much 
precision  in  them  as  in  a  football  manoeuvre,  —  just 
a  spreading  out  into  a  thin  line  and  running  forward 
for  five  seconds  perhaps,  falling  on  your  belly  and  pre 
tending  to  fire  three  rounds  at  an  imaginary  foe,  then 
jumping  up  and  doing  it  all  over  again  till  you  feel 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  39 

faint  and  foolish,  —  every  man  for  himself,  no  order, 
no  alignment, 'one  man  crouching  behind  a  shrub,  an 
other  falling  prone  on  the  ground,  another  hiding 
behind  a  tree,  —  surely  no  pomp  or  circumstance  or 
glory  in  that  business.  Graham's  study  of  punctilios 
did  him  no  service  there.  Not  a  parade  had  the  regi 
ment  had.  Mobilized  at  a  Southern  port  only  three 
days  before  the  sailing  of  the  transport,  it  had  taken 
every  hour  of  the  time  to  load  the  horses  and  equip 
ment  and  supplies.  Graham  had  found  that  fighting 
is  a  very  small  part  of  soldiering,  which  is  mostly 
drudgery,  and  he  had  revised  his  idea  of  war  several 
times  since  his  enlistment. 

He  thought  as  he  sat  cleaning  his  rifle  that  surely 
the  preliminaries  were  about  over,  arid,  if  camp  ru 
mour  counted  for  anything,  that  the  day  of  battle 
could  not  be  more  than  one  or  two  suns  away.  He 
would  have  his  gun  in  fine  working  order,  for  good 
luck  might  bring  some  shooting  on  the  morrow.  At 
any  rate  his  carbine  must  glisten  when  he  becomes 
part  of  to-morrow's  guard,  and  he  hoped  that  he 
would  be  put  right  on  the  point  of  the  advance  picket. 
He  hadn't  had  a  shave  in  three  weeks,  and  his  uni 
form  was  sweat-stained  and  dusty,  and  he  could  not 
hope  to  look  spick  and  span ;  but  his  gun  could  be 
shiny,  and  he  knew  Lieutenant  Wagner  well  enough 
by  that  time  to  have  learned  that  a  clean  gun  counted 
for  more  with  him  than  a  clean  shirt.  So  he  hoped 
and  prayed  that  he  would  be  selected  for  some  duty 
that  was  worth  while. 

The  brigades  under  General  Bell,  which  had  been 
landed  at  Alta  Gracia  with  difficulty,  were  pressing 
forward  with  all  haste  to  cut  off  a  garrison  of  Ger- 


40  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

mans  that  had  been  thrown  into  Puerto  Cabello  from 
the  German  cruisers,  and  to  prevent  the  arrival  of 
reinforcements  which  were  being  rushed  to  their  aid 
from  Caracas.  Reports  from  native  scouts  and  com 
munications  from  General  Mariana  himself  placed  the 
number  of  these  reinforcements  at  from  five  to  seven 
thousand.  General  Bell  doubted  that  this  force  was 
so  large,  but  was  anxious  to  meet  it,  whatever  its 
size. 

Despite  the  vigilance  of  the  all  too  meagre  patrol 
of  warships  for  Venezuelan  waters  which  the  United 
States  had  been  able  to  spare  from  the  necessary 
guard  for  her  Atlantic  and  Gulf  ports,  the  forehanded 
and  ever-ready  Kaiser  had  landed  seven  or  eight  thou 
sand  troops  from  a  fleet  of  transports  at  Cumana,  and 
with  characteristic  German  promptness  had  occupied 
Caracas  and  Barcelona  before  Uncle  Sam  had  been 
able  to  put  any  troops  on  Venezuelan  soil.  It  seemed 
nonsense  for  either  Germany  or  the  United  States  to 
care  to  fight  any  battles  down  in  that  little  out-of-the- 
way  place.  They  could  find  other  more  accessible  and 
far  more  important  battle-grounds :  but  no,  as  the 
Monroe  Doctrine  forbade  Germany  to  make  a  foot 
hold  in  Venezuela  and  her  doing  so  was  the  casus 
belli,  the  ethics  of  the  affair  demanded  that  there 
should  be  a  bona  fide  forcible  ejectment  of  the  Kaiser's 
troops  from  Venezuelan  territory  by  the  United 
States.  The  battles  there  might  be  only  a  side  issue, 
and  the  real  test  of  strength  might  come  at  any  or 
all  of  a  dozen  places  on  land  and  sea,  but  there  must 
be  some  fighting  done  in  Venezuela  just  to  prove  that 
the  cause  of  war  was  not  fanciful. 

General   Bell's   brigades   were   one   under   General 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  41 

Earnhardt,  consisting  of  the  5th,  /th,  loth  and  I5th 
Cavalry,  and  a  second,  including-  the  4th  and  nth 

regular  infantry,  the  7ist  Ohio,  and  the  ist  X , 

under  General  Cowles,  with  a  battalion  of  engineers 
and  four  batteries  of  field  artillery.  General  Earn 
hardt's  cavalry  brigade  was  striving  to  reach  the  Va 
lencia  road,  the  only  passable  route  from  Caracas  to 
Puerto  Cabello,  before  the  German  force  should  pass. 
General  Mariana  had  sent  a  courier  to  say  that  he 
would  hold  the  Germans  in  check  till  Earnhardt's 
arrival. 

On  the  morning  of  April  7th  Graham  was  among 
the  advance  pickets  and  almost  forgot  his  saddle  pains 
and  creaking  joints  in  the  excitement  of  expected  bat 
tle.  For  half  a  day  Earnhardt  pushed  forward  as 
fast  as  the  trail  would  permit.  He  had  halted  his 
troops  for  five  minutes'  rest  about  noon,  when  a  native 
on  a  wiry  pony,  riding  like  one  possessed,  dashed  into 
the  picket  and  came  near  getting  his  head  punched 
off  before  he  could  make  Graham  understand  that  he 
was  a  friend  with  a  message  for  the  Americano  capi- 
tan.  Graham  carried  him  before  General  Earnhardt, 
who  at  the  head  of  his  column  was  reclining  on  a 
bank  beside  the  trail,  perspiring  and  dusty  and  brush 
ing  viciously  at  the  flies  and  mosquitoes  that  swarmed 
around  him.  The  general  did  not  change  his  position 
when  the  native,  who  was  clad  in  a  nondescript  but 
much-beribboned  uniform,  slid  from  his  horse  and 
with  a  ceremonious  bow  and  salute  informed  him  that 
he  was  Captain  Miguel  of  General  Mariana's  staff, 
and  had  the  honour  to  report  that  he  was  despatched 
by  General  Mariana  to  say  that,  despite  that  gentle 
man's  earnest  and  desperate  resistance,  a  large  and 


42  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

outnumbering  force  of  German  cavalry  had  forced 
a  passage  of  the  road  to  Puerto  Cabello  about  eleven 
o'clock  that  morning.  While  Captain  Miguel  was 
delivering  his  elaborate  message  to  the  disgusted  cav 
alryman,  the  picket  passed  in  an  old  soldier  of  the 
loth  who  had  been  detailed  as  a  scout  at  the  begin 
ning  of  the  campaign;  and  this  scout  rode  up  to  re 
port  just  as  the  native  captain  finished  speaking. 
Earnhardt  turned  impatiently  from  Manana's  aide 
to  his  own  trusted  man  and  said : 

"  Well,  Morris,  what  is  it?" 

"  Small  force  of  German  cavalry,  sir,  had  a  scrim 
mage  with  General  Manana's  troops  this  morning  on 
the  Valencia  road,  and  rode  on  in  the  direction  of 
Puerto  Cabello." 

"  How  many  Germans  got  through  ?  "  asked  the 
general. 

"•All  of  them,,  sir;  about  two  troops,  as  near  as  I 
could  count." 

"And  how  many  men  did  Mariana  have?"  the 
question  came  sharply. 

"  Something  like  fifteen  hundred  I  should  judge, 
sir,  from  the  sound  of  the  firing  and  what  I  could 
see,"  answered  the  scout. 

General  Earnhardt,  without  rising,  turned  with  un 
concealed  contempt  to  Captain  Miguel  and  said : 

"  My  compliments  to  General  Mariana,  and  he's  a 

old  fraud  and  I  don't  want  to  have  anything 

more  to  do  with  him ;  "  and  while  the  red-splashed 
aide  was  trying  to  solve  the  curt  message  which  he 
but  half  understood,  the  trumpeter  at  a  word  from 
the  angry  cavalryman  sounded  mount  and  forward 
and  the  brigade  was  again  off  at  top  speed,  hoping 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  43 

still  to  cut  off  the  main  relief  force  sent  out  from 
Caracas.  General  Earnhardt  considered  himself  a 
lucky  soldier  to  find  that  this  force  had  not  passed 
when  at  last  he  reached  the  road  (which  was  hardly 
worthy  of  the  name  highway,  though  one  of  the 
thoroughfares  of  Venezuela);  and  he  hastily  dis 
posed  his  forces  to  meet  the  German  advance. 

It  was  not  long  in  coming.  The  crack  of  a  rifle 
was  the  first  notice  Corporal  Graham  had  that  he  was 
about  to  be  under  fire.  He  felt  a  cold  breeze  blow 
upon  his  back  for  a  moment,  and  then  as  the  popping 
began  to  approach  a  rattle  the  joy  of  contest  entered 
his  soul  and  sent  his  blood  bounding. 

But  the  joy  wras  short-lived.  When  the  Germans 
came  near  enough  to  see  that  they  were  opposed  by 
men  in  Uncle  Sam's  uniform,  and  not  by  the  nagging 
natives  who  had  been  popping  harmlessly  away  at 
them  from  the  roadside,  they  decided  it  was  best  not 
to  be  too  precipitate.  They  stopped  and  began  to 
feel  for  the  American  line.  After  some  desultory 
sharpshooting  they  finally  located  it,  and  quieted 
down  to  wait  till  the  German  commander  could  get 
his  little  army  up  and  into  line  of  battle. 

Then  Hayward  Graham  had  to  sit  still  and  hold 
his  gun  while  the  exhilaration  and  enthusiasm  died 
down  in  him  like  the  fiz  in  a  glass  of  soda-water.  He 
had  worked  his  nerves  up  to  such  a  tension  that  the 
reaction  was  nothing  less  than  painful,  and  he  was 
full  of  impatience  and  profanity.  He  could  hardly 
wait  for  to-morrow,  when  Germany  and  Uncle  Sam 
would  get  up  after  a  good  night's  rest  and  lay  on  like 
men. 

Again  what  was  his  unspeakable  disgust  and  almost 


44          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

unbearable  disappointment  when  the  next  morning 
came  and  he  was  detailed  as  stable  guard,  and  given 
charge  of  the  loth's  corral,  quite  a  distance  in  rear 
of  the  line  of  battle  and  absolutely  out  of  all  danger. 
Profanity  was  a  lame  and  feeble  remedy  for  that  sit 
uation.  He  sat  down  and  growled. 

"  Oh,  for  an  assorted  supply  of  languages  in  which 
to  separately  and  collectively  and  properly  consign 
this  whole  bloody  system  of  details  to  the  cellar  of 
Hades!" 

A  veteran  sergeant  of  Graham's  troop,  who  on  oc 
casions  wore  a  medal  of  honour  on  his  blouse,  and  at 
all  times  bore  an  unsightly  scar  on  his  cheek  as  a 
souvenir  of  Wounded  Knee,  sought  to  soothe  the 
young  man's  feelings. 

"  It  all  comes  along  in  the  run  of  the  business, 
corporal,"  he  said.  "  Soldiering  is  not  all  fighting. 
A  man  earns  his  money  by  doing  whatever  duty  is 
assigned  to  him." 

Graham  answered  with  heat :  "  I  didn't  come  into 
this  nasty,  sweaty,  horse-smelly  business  for  any  such 
consideration  as  fifteen  dollars  a  month  and  feed,  and 
if  I  am  to  miss  the  scrapping  and  the  glory  I  prefer 
to  cut  the  whole  affair." 

His  temper  improved,  however,  as  the  day  began 
to  drag  itself  away  with  no  sound  of  conflict  from  the 
battle-line  save  the  occasional  pop  of  a  pot-shot  by 
the  pickets,  and  as  the  rumour  began  to  leak  back  to 
the  corral  that  both  sides  must  be  waiting  for  their 
guns  to  come  up.  This  was  doubtless  true:  for  the 
four  batteries  of  American  artillery  arrived  late  in 
the  afternoon,  and  the  infantry  brigade  was  all  up 
by  nightfall. 


CHAPTER   V 

THE  two  small  armies  were  separated  by  the  valley 
of  a  small  stream  which  ran  in  a  broad  circle  around 
the  low  wooded  hills  or  range  of  hills  upon  which  the 
Germans  were  entrenched.  This  valley  was  from  a 
mile  to  a  mile  and  a  half  wide,  and  the  water-course 
was  much  nearer  the  outer  or  American  side.  The 
bed  of  this  stream  would  furnish  an  excellent  breast 
work  or  entrenchment  for  the  American  troops  if  they 
should  see  fit  to  use  it,  but  it  was  not  tenable  by  the 
Germans  because  it  was  at  most  all  points  subject  to 
an  enfilading  fire  from  the  American  position.  The 
surface  of  the  valley  was  slightly  broken  and  undu 
lating  on  the  German  side,  but  clear  of  timber  and 
covered  only  with  grass,  while  on  the  American  side 
the  rise  was  more  precipitous  and  covered  with  a  scat 
tering  growth  of  trees  and  bush. 

On  arriving  and  looking  over  the  ground  General 
Bell  ordered  that  during  the  night  his  artillery  should 
be  placed  and  concealed  on  the  commanding  heights 
which  his  position  afforded ;  and  that  his  fighting-line, 
composed  of  the  5th  and  I5th  Cavalry  as  his  left  wing, 
the  ist  X—  -  as  his  centre,  and  the  4th  and  nth 
Infantry  as  his  right  wing,  be  moved  forward  down 
the  slope  and  into  the  bed  of  the  stream,  leaving  as 
a  reserve  the  7ist  Ohio  and  the  loth  Cavalry  located 
approximately  in  rear  of  the  centre  of  his  line  of 

45 


46  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

battle.  The  7th  Cavalry  he  had  sent  out  toward 
Puerto  Cabello  to  hold  in  check  any  possible  German 
troops  that  might  appear  from  that  quarter. 

Corporal  Hayward  Graham,  back  at  the  icth's  cor 
ral,  had  recovered  his  spirits  as  the  day  dragged  along 
without  any  sound  of  battle,  and  he  began  to  con 
gratulate  himself  that  he  would  finish  up  in  good  time 
all  details  that  would  keep  him  out  of  the  fighting. 
When  he  walked  over  to  the  line  late  in  the  afternoon, 
however,  and  learned  that  the  whole  regiment  was 
to  be  held  out  of  the  fight  as  a  reserve,  he  immediately 
surmised  that  the  loth  was  kept  out  of  it  because  they 
were  negroes,  and  that  the  others  from  the  general 
down  wanted  to  scoop  all  the  glory  for  the  white  sol 
diery,  —  and  again  he  sat  down  and  cursed  the  negro 
blood  in  his  veins.  The  only  salve  to  his  outraged 
spirit  was  the  information  that  those  high  and  mighty 
prigs  of  the  7ist  were  also  to  miss  the  glory.  He 
even  chuckled  when  he  thought  of  the  chagrin  of 
Lieutenant  Morgan  and  pictured  to  himself  the  scene 
of  the  lieutenant's  meeting  with  Miss  Elise  Phillips 
if  he  should  have  to  go  back  and  explain  to  her  how 
he  came  not  to  be  under  fire.  Then  he  remembered 
Helen  Phillips  and  the  crimson  pennant  locked  up  in 
his  trunk,  and  he  felt  that  the  whole  war  would  count 
for  naught  if  he  had  no  chance  to  do  something 
worthy  of  that  pennant  and  of  her.  He  wandered 
listlessly  along  the  lines  and  tried  to  forget  his 
troubles  in  listening  to  the  talk  of  the  fortunates  who 
were  going  in. 

He  came  to  where  a  crowd  of  ist  X men  were 

chaffing  a  squad  of  the  7ist  for  "  taking  a  gallery-seat 
at  the  show."  Corporal  Billie  Catling  of  the  7ist 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  47 

replied  that  they  took  the  "  gallery-seat  "  under  or 
ders  and  were  put  behind  the  ist  X to  see  that 

they  didn't  dodge  a  fight  again  like  they  did  in  Cuba. 

"  That's  a  damn  lie!  "  came  the  ist  X 's  rejoin 
der  in  chorus ;  to  which  one  of  them  added,  "  The 
ist  X—  -  never  ran  out  of  any  fight  in  Cuba,  and 
you  gallery-gods  can  go  to  sleep  or  go  to  the  devil, 
for  we'll  stay  here  till  hell  freezes  over  so  thick  you 
can  skate  on  the  ice." 

"  Well,  you  may  not  have  run  out  of  any  fight  in 
Cuba,  but  it's  blamed  certain  you  didn't  run  into  one," 
retorted  the  7ist's  spokesman. 

"  Now,  sonny,"  yelled  the  X man,  "  don't  get 

sassy  because  you're  not  permitted  to  sit  down  along 
with  your  betters.  Run  along  and  wait  for  the  sec 
ond  table  with  the  niggers!  " 

The  /ist's  contingent  could  not  find  a  suitable  re 
tort  to  this  sally,  and,  as  fighting  was  out  of  the  ques 
tion,  they  walked  away  muttering  imprecations  amid 
the  jeers  of  the  men  from  X . 

Graham  enjoyed  the  discomfiture  of  the  7ist;  but 
he  was  more  than  ever  convinced  that  the  colour  of 
the  loth  accounted  for  its  being  robbed  of  a  chance 
for  fame  in  this  campaign  :  and  he  went  back  to  his 
duty  in  a  mutinous  mood.  He  could  not  know  that 
General  Bell  had  held  this  veteran  negro  regiment  in 
reserve  because  of  its  proved  steadiness  and  valour ; 
nor  that  he  had  placed  the  untried  ist  X—  -  in  his 
centre  because  it  would  thus  be  in  the  easiest  support 
ing  distance  of  his  reserves. 

The  battle  opened  on  April  3d  the  moment  it  be 
came  light  enough  for  the  gunners  to  locate  the  half- 
hidden  German  lines  and  artillery.  For  awhile  the 


48  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

cannoneers  had  it  all  between  themselves;  and  in  this 
duel  the  advantage  was  with  the  Americans,  for  their 
position  gave  them  better  protection  —  the  fighting- 
line  being  sheltered  by  the  stream-bed  and  the  guns 
and  reserves  by  the  hill.  The  Germans  were  en 
trenched  on  a  hill  as  high  as  the  Americans,  but  it 
was  much  flatter  and  afforded  less  natural  cover. 

After  two  or  three  hours  of  pounding  the  Germans 
with  his  artillery,  which  was  evidently  inflicting  great 
damage,  General  Bell  ordered  his  line  forward  to 
carry  the  German  position  by  assault.  Then  the  battle 
began  in  earnest.  The  German  machine-guns  opened 
on  the  American  line  as  it  rose  out  of  the  stream-bed 
and  began  its  slow  and  terrible  journey  across  the 
open  valley  by  short  rushes.  The  first  breath  of  lead 
and  iron  that  dashed  in  the  faces  of  the  American 
troops  as  they  stood  up  began  the  work  of  death ;  and 
it  came  so  promptly  and  so  viciously  that  it  over 
whelmed  the  raw  discipline  and  untempered  metal  of 

the  ist  X ;  for  before  advancing  thirty  paces  the 

line  wavered  and  broke  and  retreated  ignobly  to  the 
sheltering  bank  of  the  stream.  Not  all  the  regiment 
broke  at  once;  but  the  break  and  stampede  of  one 
company  quickly  spread  along  the  entire  regimental 
front,  and  back  into  the  ditch  they  dived.  Some  of 
the  officers  cursed  and  commanded  and  entreated; 
but  to  no  purpose.  The  wings  of  the  American  line 
were  advancing  steadily  but  slowly,  standing  up  for 
a  few  moments  to  dash  forward  a  dozen  yards,  and 
then  lying  as  close  to  the  ground  as  possible  while 
returning  the  terrible  fire  from  the  hills  in  front  of 
them. 

General  Bell  from  his  position  of  vantage  saw  the 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  49 

failure  of  the  ist  X—  -  to  advance,  and  waited  a 
few  moments  in  hope  that  a  half-dozen  officers  who 
were  recklessly  exposing  themselves  in  their  attempts 
to  urge  the  men  forward  might  succeed  in  their  ef 
forts.  As  it  became  evident  that  the  regiment  would 
not  face  the  deadly  fire  of  the  Germans,  however,  and 
as  the  wings  of  the  battle-line  were  diverging  as  they 
advanced  because  of  the  formation  of  the  ground  in 
their  front,  General  Bell  waited  no  longer,  but  ordered 
forward  both  the  loth  Cavalry  and  the  /ist  Ohio. 
These  came  over  the  hill  on  the  run  and  dropped  down 
the  slope  into  the  water-course,  where  the  heroic  hand 
ful  of  officers  were  still  making  frantic  efforts  to  have 
the  ist  X—  -  go  forward.  A  captain  was  violently 
berating  his  men  for  their  cowardice  and  imploring 
them  to  advance,  while  his  first  lieutenant  squeezed 
down  behind  the  bank  was  yelling  at  them  not  to 
move.  A  major  of  one  battalion  was  standing  up 
straight  and  fully  exposed,  waving  his  sword  and  ap 
pealing  to  his  men  by  every  token  of  courage,  while 
another  major  was  lying  as  close  to  the  bottom  of 
the  ditch  as  a  spreading-adder.  At  places  the  men 
seemed  to  want  to  move,  while  the  officers  crouched 
in  fear ;  while  at  others  officers  by  no  amount  of  com 
mands  or  entreaties  could  get  a  man  out  of  the  ditch. 
A  panic  of  terror  seemed  to  be  upon  the  regiment 
which  the  few  untouched  spirits  were  not  able  to 
overcome  by  any  power  of  sharp  commands,  or  vio 
lent  pleading,  or  reckless  examples  of  courage. 

The  boys  of  the  /ist  and  the  negro  troopers  of  the 
loth  did  not  treat  the  X—  -  men  tenderly  as  they 
passed  over  them.  They  jumped  down  upon  them 
as  they  lay  in  the  ditch  and  tramped  upon  them  or 


50  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

kicked  them  out  of  the  way  contemptuously,  while  the 
fear-smitten  creatures  were  as  unresentful  as  hounds. 
Corporal  Graham,  near  the  left  flank  of  the  loth, 
heard  an  officer  of  the  /ist  yell  as  they  passed  over 
the  ditch,  "  Why  don't  you  go  forward  ?  What  the 
devil  are  you  waiting  for?"  to  which  Billie  Catling, 
as  he  knocked  a  cowering  X—  -  man  from  his  path, 
cried  out  in  answer,  "  It's  too  hot  for  'em,  captain. 
They  are  going  to  stay  here  till  this  hell  freezes 
over!" 

As  many  perhaps  as  a  fourth  of  the  ist  X , 

officers  and  men,  fell  in  with  the  7ist  and  the  loth 
and  bravely  charged  with  them  up  the  long  slope. 
The  remainder  waited  till  the  battle  was  so  far  ahead 
of  them  that  their  belated  advance  could  not  wipe  out 
the  black  shame  of  cowardice. 

In  the  hurry  of  their  rush  into  the  breach  the  ad 
joining  flanks  of  the  roth  and  the  7ist  overlapped 
and  were  confused ;  but  it  was  well  that  the  two  regi 
ments  were  sent  to  replace  the  one,  for  the  loss  was 
appalling  as  they  surged  forward  toward  the  German 
lines,  and  they  were  not  long  in  being  thinned  out 
to  an  uncrowded  basis. 

The  first  sight  of  a  man  struck  and  falling  to  the 
ground  shook  Corporal  Graham's  nerves,  and  he  had 
to  pull  himself  together  sharply  to  save  himself  from 
the  weakening  horror  death  always  had  for  him.  He 
turned  his  eyes  resolutely  away  from  the  first  half- 
dozen  that  were  knocked  down,  and  applied  himself 
religiously  and  consciously  to  the  prescribed  method 
of  advancing  by  rushes;  but  all  his  faculties  were 
alert  to  the  dangers  of  the  situation,  and  he  could  not 
shake  off  his  keen  sense  of  peril  and  of  the  tragedies 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  51 

around  him.  Not  for  long  did  he  suffer  thus,  how 
ever,  for  as  he  rose  up  from  the  grass  for  one  rush 
forward  a  bullet  grazed  his  shin  —  and  changed  his 
whole  nature  in  a  twinkling.  It  did  him  no  real  dam 
age  and  little  blood  came  from  the  wound,  but  the 
pain  was  intense.  He  dropped  on  the  earth  and 
grabbed  his  leg  to  see  what  the  harm  was,  and  was 
surprised  to  find  himself  uninjured  save  for  the  burn 
ing,  stinging  sensation.  Then  he  forgot  everything 
but  his  pain,  and  became  as  pettishly  angry  in  a  mo 
ment  as  if  he  had  collided  with  a  rocking-chair  in  the 
dark.  In  that  moment  he  conceived  a  personal  enmity 
and  grudge  against  the  whole  German  army,  and  pro 
ceeded  to  avenge  his  injury  on  a  personal  basis.  He 
became  as  cool  and  collected  as  if  he  were  playing  a 
game  of  checkers,  and  went  in  a  business-like  way 
about  reducing  the  distance  between  himself  and  the 
gentlemen  who  had  hurt  his  shin.  His  anger  had  dis 
solved  his  confusion  and  neutralized  the  horrors  that 
were  at  first  upon  him.  He  was  more  than  ever  con 
scious  of  the  falling  men  about  him;  but  he  had  his 
debt  to  pay,  —  let  them  look  after  their  own  scores. 
He  saw  Lieutenant  Wagner  stagger  and  fall  and  raise 
up  and  drag  himself  into  a  protecting  depression  in 

the  ground;    he  saw  the  colonel  of  the    ist  X , 

fighting  with  a  carbine  in  his  hand  right  alongside  the 
black  troopers  of  the  loth,  drop  in  a  heap  and  lie  so 
still  he  knew  he  was  dead ;  he  saw  Corporal  Billie 
Catling  straighten  up  and  pitch  his  gun  from  him  as 
a  bullet  hit  him  in  the  face  and  carried  away  the  whole 
back  of  his  head ;  —  yet  Graham  stopped  not  to  help 
or  to  think.  He  had  only  one  purpose  —  to  reach  the 
man  who  hit  his  shin.  He  saw  man  after  man,  many 


52  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

of  his  own  troop,  drop  in  death  or  blood  or  agony  — 
and  his  purpose  did  not  change.  Then,  a  little  dis 
tance  to  his  left  and  somewhat  to  his  rear,  he  saw 
Colonel  Phillips  of  the  7ist  go  down  in  the  grass; 
he  saw  him  try  to  gain  his  feet,  and  fail;  and  then 
try  to  drag  himself  from  his  very  exposed  position, 
and  fail.  Then  Corporal  Graham  forgot  his  personal 
grievance,  and  thought  of  the  girl  and  the  pennant. 
He  ran  across  to  Colonel  Phillips  and,  finding  him 
shot  through  both  legs,  picked  him  up  and  carried 
him  for  forty  yards  or  more  through  the  hurricane 
of  lead  to  where  the  Valencia  road  made  a  cut  in  the 
long  slope ;  and  in  this  cut,  down  behind  a  sheltering 
curve,  he  placed  him.  Not  a  moment  too  promptly 
had  the  trooper  acted,  for  of  all  the  unfortunates  who 
had  fallen  anywhere  near  Colonel  Phillips  not  one  but 
was  found  riddled  with  the  bullets  of  the  machine- 
guns  when  the  battle  was  ended.  Graham's  own  hat 
was  shot  away  from  his  head  and  the  officer  in  his 
arms  received  another  wound  as  he  bore  him  out  of 
harm's  way.  ...  At  the  Colonel's  request  the  negro 
tried  to  remove  the  boot  from  the  bleeding  right  leg, 
which  was  broken  below  the  knee.  As  this  was  so 
painful  Colonel  Phillips  handed  him  a  pearl-handled 
pocket-knife  and  asked  him  to  cut  the  boot-top  away. 
Graham  did  so,  and  bound  a  handkerchief  around  the 
leg  to  stop  the  flow  of  blood.  Having  made  every 
other  disposition  for  the  officer's  comfort  which  his 
situation  permitted,  he  looked  out  in  the  direction  of 
the  battle  so  wistfully  that  the  Colonel  told  him  he 
might  return  to  the  fight.  He  did  so  with  a  rush, 
absent-mindedly  pocketing  the  pearl-handled  knife  as 
he  ran. 


"  CARRIED    HIM    FOR    FORTY    YARDS    OR    MORE    THROUGH 
THE    HURRICANE    OF    LEAD." 


THE    CALL   OF    THE    SOUTH  53 

The  firing-line  had  advanced  quite  a  distance  while 
Graham  was  rescuing  Colonel  Phillips  and  minister 
ing  to  him ;  and  in  his  overweening  desire  to  be  right 
at  the  front  of  the  battle  he  ran  forward  without  the 
customary  stops  for  lying  down  and  firing.  That  they 
should  carry  him  safe  through  that  driving  rain  of 
bullets,  despite  his  indifference  to  the  ordinary  rules 
of  the  desperate  game,  was  more  than  reasonably 
could  have  been  expected  of  the  Fates  which  had  pro 
tected  him  up  to  that  moment  from  serious  harm; 
and  —  down  he  crashed  in  the  grass  and  lay  still  with 
out  design,  while  the  battle  passed  farther  and  farther 
up  the  long  slope,  away  from  him.  In  dim  half-con 
sciousness  he  realized  what  had  befallen  him ;  and  the 
only  two  ideas  which  found  place  in  his  mind  were 
the  uncomfortable  thought  that  he  would  be  buried 
without  a  bath,  and  a  feeling  of  satisfaction  that  the 
god  of  battle  at  least  had  dignified  him  with  a  more 
respectable  wound  than  a  bruised  shin-bone. 


CHAPTER    VI 

WHEN  two  strong,  alert  men,  disputing,  come  to 
the  final  appeal  to  battle,  the  decision  is  usually  made 
quickly.  It  is  only  the  weak  or  the  unprepared  who 
prolong  a  fight. 

So  was  it  that  late  summer  in  191 —  saw  an  end 
of  war  between  Germany  and  the  United  States  — 
thanks  partially  to  the  intervention  of  the  Powers. 
And  with  what  result?  The  result  does  appear  so 
inadequate !  The  Monroe  Doctrine  was  still  unshaken 
—  and  that  was  worth  much  perhaps ;  but  ten  thou 
sand  sailors  and  the  flower  of  two  navies  were  under 
the  tide,  and  half  as  many  soldiers  dead  of  fever  or 
fighting  in  Venezuela ;  small  armies  of  newly  made 
orphans  and  widows  in  Germany  and  America; 
mourning  and  despair  in  the  houses  of  the  desolate, 
—  some  hope  in  the  heart  of  the  pension  attorney ;  a 
new  set  of  heroes  on  land  and  sea,  —  at  the  top,  Long, 
who  at  the  battle  of  the  Bermudas,  finding  his  own 
small  craft  and  a  wounded  German  cruiser  left  afloat 
of  twenty-odd  vessels  that  had  begun  the  fight,  in 
answer  to  her  demand  for  his  surrender,  had  torpe 
doed  and  sunk  the  German  promptly,  and  to  his  own 
everlasting  astonishment  had  managed  to  save  his 
neck  and  prevent  the  battle's  becoming  a  Kilkenny 
affair  by  beaching  his  riddled  boat  and  keeping  her 
flag  above  water:  from  Long  an  endless  list  of  real 

64 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  55 

and  fictitious  heroes,  dwindling  by  nice  gradations  in 
importance  as  they  increased  in  numbers,  till  they 
touched  bottom  in  the  raw  volunteer  infantryman 
whose  wildest  tale  of  adventure  was  of  his  exemplary 
courage  in  a  great  storm  that  swept  the  God-forsaken 
sand-bar  on  which  his  company  had  been  stationed, 
—  to  prevent  the  German  navy's  purloining  the  new- 
laid  foundations  of  a  fort  to  guard  Catfish  River. 

In  the  long  list  of  heroes  Colonel  Hayne  Phillips 
was  not  without  prominence.  The  sailormen  were 
first,  for  their  deeds  were  more  numerous  and  spec 
tacular  ;  but  among  the  soldiers  who  were  in  the  pop 
ular  eye  he  was  easily  the  most  lauded.  He  was  a 
volunteer;  and  that  was  everything  in  his  favour,  for 
it  put  him  on  a  par  with  members  of  the  regular 
establishment  of  ten  times  his  merit.  He  was  noth 
ing  more  than  a  brave  and  patriotic  man  with  a  taste 
for  the  military  and  with  but  little  of  a  professional 
soldier's  knowledge  or  training;  and  yet  his  demon 
strated  possession  of  those  two  qualities  alone,  patri 
otism  and  personal  courage  (which  most  men  indeed 
possess,  and  which  are  so  inseparably  associated  with 
one's  thought  of  a  regular  army  officer  as  to  add  noth 
ing  to  his  fame  or  popularity),  —  the  possession  of 
these  two  simple  American  virtues  had  brought  to 
Colonel  Phillips  the  enthusiastic  admiration  of  a  hero- 
loving  people,  and  —  what  was  of  more  personal  ad 
vantage  to  him  —  the  consequent  consideration  and 
favour  of  party-managers  in  need  of  a  popular  idol. 

These  political  prestidigitators,  mindful  of  the  po 
litical  successes  of  the  soldiers,  Taylor,  Grant  and 
Roosevelt,  took  him  and  his  war  record  in  hand  and 
proceeded  to  work  a  few  easy  miracles.  The  love 


56  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

and  plaudits  of  a  great  State  and  a  great  nation  for 
a  favourite  regiment  coming  home  with  honour  and 
with  the  glory  of  hard-won  battle  upon  its  standards 
were  skilfully  turned  to  account  for  partisan  political 
uses.  The  deeds  and  virtues  of  a  thousand  men  were 
deftly  placed  to  the  credit  of  one,  and  before  the  very 
eyes  of  the  people  was  the  legerdemain  wrought  by 
which  one  political  party  and  one  Colonel  Phillips 
drew  all  the  dividends  from  the  investment  of  treasure 
and  of  blood  and  of  patriotic  energy  and  devotion 
which  that  thousand  men  had  made  without  a  thought 
of  politics  or  pay. 

The  partisan  press,  as  always  advertent  to  the  pecul 
iar  penchant  hero-worship  has  for  ignoring  patent  ab 
surdities,  overdrew  the  picture  —  but  no  harm  was 
done :  for  while  truth  of  fact  was  disregarded  and 
abused,  essential  truth  suffered  no  hurt.  Although 
enterprising  newspapers  did  furnish  for  the  political 
campaign  one  photogravure  of  Colonel  Phillips  lead 
ing  the  7ist  regiment  over  the  German  earthworks  at 
the  battle  of  Valencia,  and  another  of  him  in  the  act 
of  receiving  the  German  commander's  sword  on  that 
occasion  —  these  things  did  the  gallant  Colonel  no 
injustice.  He  gladly  would  have  attended  to  those 
little  matters  of  the  surrender  in  place  of  the  veteran 
officer  of  regulars  who  officiated.  It  was  through  no 
fault  of  the  7ist's  commander  that  shortness  of  breath 
made  it  impossible  for  him  to  keep  pace  with  his  men 
up  that  long  slope ;  nor  in  the  least  to  his  discredit  that 
he  was  shot  down  in  the  rear  of  the  regiment  and  his 
life  saved  through  the  bravery  of  a  negro  trooper. 

The  Colonel's  courage  was  indeed  of  the  genuine 
metal  and  he  willingly  would  have  met  all  the  dangers 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  57 

and  performed  all  the  mighty  deeds  accredited  to  him 
if  opportunity  had  come  to  him.  Being  conscious  of 
this  willingness  in  his  own  soul,  he  took  no  measures 
to  correct  impressions  of  his  prowess  made  upon  the 
minds  of  misinformed  thousands  of  voters.  The  error 
was  not  in  a  mistaken  public  opinion  as  to  his  valour, 
for  that  was  all  that  was  claimed  for  it,  but  in  the 
people's  belief  in  certain  spectacular  exhibitions  of 
that  valour  which  were  really  totally  imaginary.  He 
knew  that  he  was  as  brave  a  man  as  the  people 
thought :  why  then  quibble  over  facts  that  were  en 
tirely  incidental  ?  The  hero-idolaters  swallowed  in 
faith  and  ecstasy  all  the  details  which  an  inventive  and 
energetic  press  bureau  could  turn  out,  and  cried  for 
more :  and  the  nomination  for  the  presidency  prac 
tically  had  been  tendered  to  him  by  acclamation  al 
most  a  year  before  the  convention  assembled  which 
officially  commissioned  him  its  standard-bearer. 

Colonel  Phillips'  campaign  was  attended  by  one 
wild  hurrah  from  start  to  finish.  It  was  pyrotechnic. 
Other  candidates  for  this  office  of  all  dignity  have 
awaited  calmly  at  home  the  authoritative  call  of  the 
people ;  but  the  materia  medica  of  politics  teaches  that 
to  quicken  a  sluggish  pulse  in  the  electorate  a  hero 
must  be  administered  directly  and  vigorously  into  the 
system.  So  the  Colonel  was  sent  upon  his  mighty 
"  swing  around  the  circle." 

In  that  sweeping  vote-drive  many  weapons  were 
displayed,  but  only  one  saw  any  real  service.  That 
was  the  Colonel's  gray  and  battered  campaign  hat. 
He  wore  it  for  the  sake  of  comfort,  to  be  sure;  but, 
like  the  log  cabin  and  grandfather's  hat  of  the  Harri 
sons,  the  rails  of  Lincoln,  and  the  Rough  Riders  uni- 


58  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

form  of  Roosevelt,  it  was  the  tumult-raising  and  final 
answer  to  every  argument  and  appeal  of  the  opposi 
tion.  It  uprooted  party  loyalties,  silenced  partisan 
prejudices,  overrode  eloquence  and  oratory,  beat  back 
and  battered  down  the  shrewd  attacks  and  defences 
of  political  manipulation,  and  contemptuously  kicked 
aside  anything  savouring  of  serious  political  reason 
ing.  The  convention  which  nominated  him  had  in 
deed  formulated  and  declared  an  admirable  platform 
upon  which  he  should  go  before  the  people,  and  he 
placed  himself  squarely  on  that  platform;  but  the 
gaze  of  the  people  never  got  far  enough  below  that 
campaign  hat  to  notice  what  its  wearer  was  standing 
on. 

Colonel  Phillips  was  a  sincere,  honest,  candid,  plain- 
spoken  politician  —  for  politician  he  was  if  he  was 
anything,  while  yet  so  fearless  of  party  whips  and 
mandates  that  his  name  was  synonymous  with  honesty 
and  lofty  civic  purpose.  So,  feeling  his  own  purposes 
ringing  true  to  the  declarations  of  his  party's  plat 
form,  he  did  not  deem  it  necessary  to  direct  the  dis 
tracted  attention  of  the  people  to  these  prosy  matters 
of  statecraft  when  they  were  taking  such  a  friendly 
interest  in  his  headgear.  If  they  were  willing  to 
blindly  follow  the  hat,  he  knew  in  his  honest  heart 
that  the  man  under  it  would  carry  that  hat  along 
paths  of  political  righteousness. 

He  was  indeed  playing  upon  every  chord  of  popu 
lar  feeling  and  seeking  the  favour  of  every  man  with 
a  ballot.  He  had  always  fought  to  win  in  every  con 
test  he  had  entered,  from  single-stick  to  war,  and  he 
made  no  exception  of  this  race  for  the  chieftaincy  of 
the  Republic.  It  was  to  be  expected,  therefore,  that 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  59 

the  large  negro  vote  in  pivotal  States,  as  well  as  his 
natural  love  of  justice  and  his  admiration  for  a  brave 
soldiery,  would  lead  him  to  pay  enthusiastic  and  de 
served  tribute  to  the  negro  troops  who  had  served 
in  the  Venezuelan  campaign.  He  paid  these  tributes 
religiously  and  brilliantly  in  every  speech  he  made, 
but  always  in  general  and  impersonal  terms  and  with 
out  a  hint  of  his  own  debt  to  a  corporal  of  the  loth 
Cavalry.  There  was  no  need  for  such  minutiae  of 
course,  for  that  was  a  purely  personal  affair  between 
him  and  an  unknown  negro  who  might  be  dead  and 
buried  for  all  he  knew ;  while,  besides,  a  recital  of 
these  unimportant  details  would  necessitate  a  fruitless 
revision  of  other  incidental  ideas  now  pleasantly  fixed 
in  the  public  mind.  He  sometimes  entertained  his 
wife  and  daughters  with  the  story  of  how  a  trooper 
of  the  loth  had  saved  his  life,  but  never  did  he  sound 
the  personal  note  in  public. 

'Colonel  Phillips  made  votes  with  every  speech  and 
it  looked  as  if  he  would  win.  He  deserved  to  win, 
for  he  was  honest,  capable,  clean.  As  election  day 
drew  near  the  opposing  candidate  received  a  confi 
dential  letter  from  his  campaign  manager  in  which 
that  veteran  politician  said : 

"  I  have  lost  and  won  many  hats  in  my  political 
career,  but  this  is  the  first  time  I  have  ever  been  called 
upon  to  fight  a  hat  —  just  a  hat  —  to  settle  a  Presi 
dency.  This  is  a  hat  campaign;  and  you  have  evi 
dently  made  the  mistake  of  going  bareheaded  all  your 
life.  You  seem,  too,  to  have  limited  yourself  to  a 
home-grown  ancestry.  The  Colonel  is  simply  wearing 
a  hat  and  claiming  kin  with  everything  from  a  Plym 
outh  Rock  rooster  to  a  palmetto-tree.  The  newspapers 


60  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

are  getting  on  my  nerves  with  their  unending  refer 
ences  to  that  campaign-hat  and  Phillips'  ding-dong 
about  the  unity  and  virility  of  American  blood  and 
his  mother's  being  a  South  Carolinian. 

"  The  cards  are  running  against  us." 


CHAPTER    VII 

COLONEL  PHILLIPS'  daughters  were  enjoying  life 
to  the  full  in  their  long  summer  outing  on  the  St. 
Lawrence.  The  older,  Elise,  had  just  finished  with 
the  schools  and  was  free  from  many  of  the  restraints 
which  the  strict  and  old-fashioned  ideas  of  her  mother 
had  put  upon  her  during  her  girlhood,  and  was  filled 
with  a  lively  enjoyment  of  her  first  untrammelled 
association  with  the  males  of  her  kind.  Helen  was 
still  a  girl,  and  her  mother  yet  threw  about  her  all  the 
guards  and  fences  that  properly  hedge  about  the  days 
of  maidenhood.  But  this  did  not  in  the  slightest  check 
the  flow  of  Helen's  joy  in  life,  for  the  matter  of  sex 
in  her  associates  was  not  an  element  in  her  happiness. 
Boy  or  girl,  it  mattered  not  to  her,  if  her  fellow  in 
the  hour's  sport  was  quick-witted,  quick-moving  and 
mischief-loving.  The  extent  of  her  thoughts  of  love 
was  that  it  and  its  victims  were  most  excellent  objects 
of  banter  and  ridicule;  and  she  found  the  incipient 
affair  between  Elise  and  Evans  Rutledge  a  source  of 
much  fun. 

"Are  you  a  hero?"  she  once  asked  Mr.  Rutledge 
solemnly. 

"  Not  to  my  own  knowledge,"  Rutledge  answered. 
"Why?" 

"  Because  if  you  are  you  may  be  my  brother  some 
time.  Elise  likes  you  a  little,  I  think,  and  she  thinks 

61 


62  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

your  hair  would  curl  beautifully  if  you  didn't  crop  it 
so  close  —  but  you  will  have  to  be  a  hero.  You 
needn't  fear  Mr.  Morgan.  He  failed  to  be  a  hero 
when  he  had  the  chance,  and  now  his  chance  is  gone. 
Nobody  but  a  hero  can  interest  Elise  for  keeps." 

"  When  did  Morgan  have  his  chance  ?  "  asked  Rut- 
ledge,  amused  at  the  mischief-maker's  plain  speaking. 

"  He  went  to  Venezuela  in  papa's  regiment,  but 
never  had  a  shot  fired  at  him  the  whole  time  he  was 
gone.  That's  what  he  did.  Elise  cannot  love  a  man 
like  that." 

"  Perhaps  it  was  not  his  fault.  He  may  have  been 
detailed  to  such  duties  as  kept  him  away  from  the 
shots." 

"  Yes,  I  think  he  says  he  was ;  but  what  of  that  ? 
He  wasn't  in  the  fighting,  and  that's  what  it  takes  to 
make  a  hero.  Oh,  I  wish  I  were  a  man.  I  would 
ride  a  horse  and  hunt  lions  and  tigers,  and  I  would 
have  gone  to  the  war  in  Venezuela  and  nobody's  or 
ders  would  have  kept  me  from  the  firing-line  —  I 
believe  that's  what  papa  calls  it  —  the  place  where  all 
the  fun  and  danger  is.  When  papa  talks  about  it  I 
can  hear  my  heart  beat.  Elise  says  she  wouldn't  be 
a  man  for  anything;  but  I've  heard  her  say  that  she 
could  love  a  man  if  he  was  a  man  —  brave  and  strong 
—  you  know  —  a  man  who  did  things.  I  would  pre 
fer  to  do  the  things  myself.  I  wouldn't  love  any  man 
I  ever  saw  —  unless  he  was  just  like  papa.  What 
regiment  were  you  in,  Mr.  Rutledge?  " 

"  I  wasn't  in  any  regiment,"  said  Rutledge  meekly. 

"What!  Didn't  you  volunteer?"  asked  Helen  in 
surprise. 

"  I  did  not  volunteer  "  —  a  trifle  defiantly. 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  63 

"Why?"  Helen  demanded  scornfully.  "If  I  had 
a  brother  and  he  had  failed  to  volunteer  I  would  never 
have  spoken  to  him  again !  I  thought  all  South  Caro 
linians  were  fighters." 

"  T  had  other  things  to  attend  to,"  said  Rutledge 
shortly.  ''Where  is  Miss  Phillips  this  afternoon?" 

"  She's  out  on  the  river  with  Mr.  Morgan.  They 
will  not  be  back  till  dinner,  so  you  would  just  as  well 
sit  down  here  and  talk  to  me.  .  .  .  But  I'm  sorry  you 
didn't  volunteer  —  you  will  never  be  my  brother  now. 
.  .  .  And  I  was  beginning  to  like  you  so  much." 

"  I  thank  you,  little  girl,  for  your  attempt  to  think 
well  of  me.  I  see  that  I  have  sinned  past  your  for 
giveness  in  not  being  a  hero.  Remember  that  it  is 
only  because  ninety  and  nine  men  are  commonplace 
that  the  hundredth  may  be  a  hero.  I  am  one  of  the 
ninety  and  nine  that  make  the  hero  possible  —  a  mod 
est  king-maker,  in  a  way.  A  hero  must  have  some 
one  else  to  fight  for,  or  die  for,  or  live  for.  He  can 
not  do  these  things  for  himself,  for  that  would  make 
him  anything  but  a  hero.  So  you  see  that  the  second 
person  is  as  necessary  to  the  process  of  hero-making 
as  the  hero  himself.  It's  all  in  the  process  and  not 
in  the  product,  anyway.  It's  the  hero  in  act  and  not 
in  fact,  in  the  making  and  not  in  the  taking,  that 
enjoys  his  own  heroism  and  is  worth  our  interest. 
While  he  is  making  himself  he  thrills  with  the  effort 
and  with  the  uncertainty  as  to  whether  he  will  get  a 
commission,  a  lathe-and-plaster  arch,  or  a  court  of 
inquiry ;  and  we  the  ninety  and  nine,  we  thrill  with 
the  gambling  fever  and  make  wagers  that  his  trolley 
will  get  off  the  wire.  But  when  he  gets  himself  done 
—  clean  done,  so  to  speak,  wrapped  in  tinfoil  and 


64  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

ready  for  use  —  then  there  is  nothing  left  for  the  hero 
to  do  but  to  pose  and  await  our  applause  —  which  is 
most  unheroic ;  and  we,  after  one  whoop,  forget  him 
in  the  excitement  of  watching  the  next  candidate  risk 
his  neck.  Besides,  the  hero's  work  in  hero-making 
is  temporary  and  limited,  for  he  stops  with  making 
one ;  but  we,  when  we  have  finished  with  one,  turn  to 
the  making  of  another,  and  our  work  is  never  done. 
While  I  am  not  even  one  hero,  I  have  helped  to  make 
a  hundred.  Come  now  —  you  are  generous  and  un 
selfish —  which  would  you  most  admire,  one  finished 
hero  listening  for  applause,  or  a  hero-maker,  who, 
without  reward  or  the  hope  of  reward,  modestly  and 
continuously  assists  in  thus  bringing  glory  to  an  end 
less  procession  of  his  fellows?  " 

"  You  think  you  are  brilliant,  Mr.  Rutleclge,"  an 
swered  Helen  with  an  impatient  toss  of  her  head,  "  but 
you  can't  confuse  me  by  any  such  talk  as  that.  You 
needn't  think  you  will  be  able  to  persuade  Elise  by 
any  long  jumble  of  words  that  you  are  greater  than 
a  hero.  A  king-maker!  "  She  laughed  mockingly  at 
him. 

"  Don't  fear  that  I  will  use  any  sophistry  or  doubt 
ful  method  to  become  your  brother,"  Rutledge  re 
joined  amusedly.  "  I  have  only  one  thing  to  tell 
Miss  Phillips." 

"  And  what  is  that?  "  asked  Helen  with  interest. 

"  I  am  inexpressibly  pained  to  refuse  your  lightest 
wish,"  said  Rutledge  grandiloquently,  "  but  to  grant 
your  request  would  be  —  telling;  and  I  may  —  not 
tell,  —  perhaps,  —  even  Miss  Phillips." 

"  Do  not  suffer  so,"  said  Helen  with  an  assumption 
of  great  indifference.  "  I  don't  care  to  hear  it." 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  65 

"  Yes,  I  predict  that  you  will  be  delighted  to  listen 
to  it  when  it  is  told  to  you,"  said  Rutledge  confidently. 
"  And  it  will  be  beyond  doubt.  But  you  are  too  young 
to  hear  such  things  yet.  Be  patient.  You'll  get  older 
if  you  live  long  enough." 

It  fretted  Helen  to  be  told  that  she  was  young,  as 
she  was  told  a  dozen  times  a  day  —  not  that  she  dis 
liked  her  youth,  but  because  of  the  suggestion  that 
she  was  not  free  to  do  as  she  pleased ;  and  her  eyes 
began  to  flash  at  Rutledge's  taunt  and  her  mind  to 
form  a  suitable  expression  of  resentment  —  when  that 
gentleman  walked  away  from  her  smiling  at  her  pet 
ulant  anger. 

Evans  Rutledge  had  more  interest  in  Helen's  words 
about  her  sister  than  he  showed  in  his  manner  or  con 
versation.  He  had  not  told  Elise  what  his  heart  had 
told  him  for  many  days  past,  though  she  did  not  need 
spoken  words  to  know.  He,  manlike,  thought  that 
he  was  keeping  this  knowledge  of  his  supreme  affec 
tion  for  her  a  secret  in  his  own  soul,  to  be  delivered 
as  a  startling  and  effective  surprise  when  an  impress 
ive  and  strategic  opportunity  should  come  to  tell  her 
of  it.  She,  womanlike,  read  him  as  easily  as  a  college 
professor  is  supposed  to  read  Greek,  and  concerned 
herself  chiefly  with  feigning  ignorance  of  his  interest 
in  her. 

Elise's  true  attitude  toward  Rutledge  was  a  sort 
of  neutrality.  She  was  neither  for  him  nor  against 
him.  She  was  attracted  by  everything  she  saw  or 
knew  of  him,  and  looked  upon  him  with  that  more 
than  passing  interest  which  every  woman  has  for  a 
man  who  has  asked  or  will  ask  her  to  be  his  wife. 

On  the  other  hand  she  was  decided  she  could  not 


66  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

accept  Rutledge.  She  had  but  crossed  the  threshold 
of  her  unfettered  young  womanhood,  and  her  natural 
and  healthy  zest  in  its  pleasures  overcame  any  natural 
impulse  to  choose  a  mate.  Added  to  this  were  the 
possibilities  held  out  in  her  romantic  imagination  as 
the  increasing  newspaper  prophecies  concerning  her 
father  induced  day-dreams  of  court-like  scenes  and 
princely  suitors  when  she  should  be  the  young  lady 
of  the  White  House,  the  most  exalted  maiden  in  great 
America,  with  the  prerogative  of  a  crown  princess. 
A  temporary  prerogative  surely,  but  well-nigh  irre 
sistible  when  combined  with  the  compelling  charm  of 
American  womanhood,  that  by  right  of  genius  as 
sumes  the  high  positions  for  which  nature  has  en 
dowed  the  gentlewomen  of  this  republic,  and  by  right 
of  fine  adaptability  and  inborn  queenliness  establishes 
and  fortifies  them,  as  if  born  to  the  purple,  in  the 
social  high  places  of  older  civilizations. 

Elise  Phillips,  with  all  her  democratic  training,  with 
her  admirable  good  common  sense,  with  her  adorable 
kindliness  of  heart  and  friendliness  of  spirit  for  every 
man  and  woman  of  high  or  low  degree,  with  her  sin 
cere  admiration  for  true  manliness  and  pure  woman 
liness  unadorned  by  any  tinsel  of  arbitrary  rank,  with 
all  her  contempt  for  the  shams  and  pretences  of  de 
cayed  nobilities  parading  dishonoured  titles,  was  yet 
too  much  a  woman  and  too  full  of  the  romantic  opti 
mism  of  life's  spring-time  not  to  dream  of  princely 
youths  wearing  the  white  flower  of  blameless  lives 
who  would  come  in  long  procession  to  attend  her  tem 
porary  court. 

And  in  that  procession  as  it  even  now  passed  be- 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  67 

fore  her  imagination,  she  kept  watch  for  him,  —  the 
ideal  of  her  maiden  soul,  the  master  of  her  virgin 
heart;  —  him,  with  the  blue  eyes  and  flaxen  hair  and 
the  commanding  figure  that  looked  down  upon  all 
other  men ;  —  him,  with  the  look  and  gesture  of  power 
that  men  obeyed  and  women  adored,  and  that  became 
tender  and  adoring  only  for  her ;  —  him,  with  a  rank 
that  made  him  to  stand  before  kings  with  confidence, 
and  a  clean  life  that  might  stand  before  her  white  soul 
and  feel  no  shame;  —  him,  with  a  strength  and  cour 
age  that  failed  not  nor  faltered  along  the  rocky  paths 
by  which  the  laurel  and  Victoria  Crosses  grow,  and 
that  yet  would  falter  and  tremble  with  love  in  her 
presence.  Oh,  the  wonderful  dreams  of  Youth! 
How  real  they  are,  and  how  powerful  in  changing  the 
issues  of  life  and  of  death. 

Had  Rutledge  taken  counsel  of  his  mother  or 
heeded  her  disapprobation  of  Miss  Elise  Phillips,  he 
would  have  saved  himself  at  least  from  the  pain  of 
a  flouted  love;  and  if  he  could  have  made  his  heart 
obey  his  mother's  wish  he  would  have  avoided  the 
stress  of  many  heartaches  and  jealousies,  and  of  slow- 
dying  hope. 

Mrs.  Rutledge  had  her  young  womanhood  in  the 
heart-burning  days  of  the  Great  War,  and  the  parti 
san  impress  then  seared  into  her  young  soul  was  in 
eradicable.  She  had  a  youth  that  knew  fully  the  pas 
sions  and  the  sorrows  of  that  awful  four  years  of 
blood  and  strife :  for  every  man  of  her  house,  father 
and  five  brothers,  had  she  seen  dead  and  cold  in  their 
uniforms  of  gray;  and  her  antipathy  for  "  those  peo 
ple  "  who  had  sent  anguish  and  never-ending  desola- 


68  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

tion  into  her  life  might  lie  dormant  if  memory  was 
unprovoked,  but  it  could  never  change  nor  lose  its 
sharp  vehemence. 

She  had  objected  to  Elise  from  the  moment  her 
son  showed  a  fancy  for  her,  and  began  quietly  to  sow 
in  his  mind  the  seeds  she  hoped  would  grow  into 
dislike  and  aversion.  She  told  him  that  "  those  peo 
ple,"  as  she  invariably  called  persons  who  came  from 
that  indefinite  stretch  of  country  which  her  mind  com 
prehended  in  the  term  "  the  North,"  were  "  not  of 
our  sort,"  —  that  they  were  intelligent  and  interesting 
in  a  way ;  —  that  Elise  Phillips  was  unquestionably 
fascinating  to  a  young  man,  that  her  money  had  given 
her  a  polish  of  mind  and  manner  that  was  admittedly 
attractive;  but  that  she  was  not  fitted  to  be  the  life 
companion  of  a  man  whose  culture  and  gentlemanli- 
ness  was  not  a  product  of  schools  and  of  dollars  but 
a  heritage  from  long  generations  of  gentle  ancestors 
who  had  bequeathed  to  him  converging  legacies  of 
fine  and  gentle  breeding. 

Evans  Rutledge,  however,  was  of  a  new  day;  and 
his  mother's  theory  that  good  blood  was  a  Southern 
and  sectional  product  found  no  place  in  his  thought. 
He  was  tender,  however,  and  considerate  of  his  moth 
er's  prejudices,  and  was  never  so  rude  as  to  brush 
them  aside  contemptuously.  He  always  treated  them 
with  deference  and  tried  always  to  meet  them  with 
some  show  of  reason.  In  the  case  of  Elise  Phillips 
he  sought  to  placate  his  mother's  whim  and  capture 
her  prejudice  by  tacitly  agreeing  to  the  general  prop 
osition  while  excepting  Elise  from  it  by  the  use  of 
Colonel  Phillips'  well-worn  statement  that  his  mother 
was  a  South  Carolinian. 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  69 

"  That  makes  Miss  Phillips  a  granddaughter  of 
South  Carolina,"  said  Rutledge  to  his  mother;  "and 
surely  there  cannot  be  much  degeneracy  in  two  gen 
erations,  —  especially  when  the  Southern  blood  was 
of  the  finest  strain." 

Mrs.  Rutledge  admitted  that  the  argument  was  not 
without  force,  but  solemnly  warned  her  son  there  was 
no  telling  when  the  common  strain  might  crop  out. 

"  What's  bred  in  the  bone  will  come  out  in  the 
blood,"  she  said,  "  and  bad  blood  is  more  assertive 
than  good." 

Evans  loved  his  mother  better  than  any  other  soul 
except  Elise,  and  he  would  go  far  and  deny  himself 
much  to  obey  even  her  most  unreasonable  whim,  but 
his  love  for  Elise  was  too  fervid  a  passion  to  be 
stifled  for  the  sake  of  a  war-born  prejudice.  He 
would  win  her;  yes,  he  must  win  her;  and  he  waited 
only  the  winning  moment  to  plead  openly  for  his  hap 
piness. 


CHAPTER    VIII 

IT  was  a  morning  in  late  September  that  Elise  and 
Rutledge  went  for  their  last  canoe  ride  on  the  mighty 
river.  Mrs.  Phillips  and  her  daughters  were  to  leave 
for  home  on  an  early  afternoon  train,  and  Mrs.  Rut- 
ledge  and  Evans  for  Montreal  an  hour  later. 

It  was  a  day  to  live.  By  an  occasional  splash  of 
yellow  or  red  among  the  green  that  lined  the  river 
side  and  clothed  the  diminutive  island  in  the  stream, 
Summer  gave  notice  that  in  thirty  days  Nature  must 
find  another  tenant ;  and  a  taste  of  chill  in  the  air  was 
Winter's  advance  agent  looking  over  the  premises  and 
arranging  to  decorate  them  in  the  soberer  grays  and 
browns  for  the  coming  of  his  serious  and  mighty 
master. 

The  lassitude  of  the  hot  days  was  gone,  and  life 
and  impulse  were  in  the  autumn  breeze.  There  was 
not  a  suggestion  of  melancholy  or  decay  or  death  in 
earth,  air  or  sky.  It  was  more  as  if  a  strong  man  was 
risen  from  drowsy  sleep  and  stretching  his  muscles 
and  breathing  a  fresh  air  into  his  lungs  for  a  day  of 
vigorous  doing.  Not  exhaustion  but  strength,  not 
languor  but  briskness,  not  the  end  but  the  beginning, 
was  indicated  in  every  breath  and  aspect  of  Nature. 

It  was  a  morning  not  to  doubt  but  to  believe :  and 
Rutledge  felt  the  tightening  spring  in  mind  and  body 
and  heart,  and  the  bracing  influence  made  his  love 

70 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  71 

and  his  hopes  to  vibrate  and  thrill.  As  with  easy 
strokes  he  sent  the  canoe  through  the  water  he  drank 
in  the  fresh  beauty  of  Elise  as  an  invigorating 
draught.  She  was  so  en  rapport  with  the  morning 
and  the  sunlight  and  the  life  as  she  sat  facing  and 
smiling  upon  him,  her  cheeks  aglow  with  health  and 
her  face  alight  with  the  exquisite  keenness  of  joy  in 
living,  that  she  seemed  to  him  the  incarnate  spirit  of 
the  day. 

The  crisp  tingle  in  the  air  was  not  without  its  spell 
upon  Elise.  No  blood  could  respond  more  quickly 
than  hers  to  Nature's  quickening  heart-beats,  and  it 
sang  in  her  pulses  with  unaccustomed  sensations  that 
morning.  She  looked  upon  Rutledge  as  he  smartly 
swung  the  paddle,  and  was  struck  with  the  strength 
he  seemed  to  possess  without  the  coarse  obtrusion  of 
muscle.  She  accredited  the  easiness  of  his  movements 
to  the  smooth  water,  in  which  he  had  kept  the  canoe 
because  of  his  desire  to  be  as  little  distracted  as  pos 
sible  from  contemplation  of  Elise's  charms  and  graces. 
The  swing  of  his  body  and  arms  was  as  graceful  as 
if  he  had  learned  it  from  a  dancing-master,  and  there 
was  a  touch  of  daintiness  about  it  which  was  his  only 
personal  trait  that  Elise  had  positively  designated  in 
her  mind  as  not  belonging  to  her  ideal  man.  She  did 
not  object  to  it  on  its  own  account,  but  surmised  it 
might  have  its  origin  in  some  vague  unmanly  weak 
ness  —  and  weakness  in  a  man  she  despised. 

She  had  talked  to  him  of  a  score  of  things  since 
they  had  embarked,  passing  rapidly  from  one  to  an 
other  in  order  to  keep  him  away  from  the  one  sub 
ject  he  seemed  attracted  to  from  any  point  of  the 
conversational  compass.  At  the  moment  she  had  been 


72  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

so  clearly  impressed  with  his  almost  feminine  grace 
fulness  the  conversation  was  taking  a  dangerous 
swerve,  she  thought;  and  for  a  minute  she  was  at  a 
loss  how  to  divert  the  course  of  language  from  the 
matter  nearest  his  heart.  In  a  blind  effort  to  do  so 
she  unthinkingly  challenged  him  to  prove  his  sterner 
strength  which  she  had  never  seen  put  to  the  test. 

"  It's  easy  going  here,  isn't  it?  "  she  said.  "  What 
a  pity  we  couldn't  have  one  visit  to  the  island  before 
we  go  away." 

"  Do  you  wish  to  go  there?  "  asked  Rutledge. 

"  I  would  like  to,"  she  replied,  "  but  of  course  we 
cannot  attempt  it  without  an  experienced  canoe-man. 
It  is  about  time  for  us  to  return;  don't  you  think  so?  " 

"  That  depends  on  whether  you  really  want  to  go 
to  the  island,"  returned  Rutledge,  who  was  quick  to 
see  and  resent  the  intimation  that  he  was  not  equal 
to  the  business  of  putting  her  across  the  racing  water 
between  them  and  the  small  cluster  of  trees  and  shrubs 
growing  among  a  misshapen  pile  of  rocks  nearly 
across  the  river. 

"  I  am  told  no  one  but  these  half-breed  guides  have 
ever  tried  the  passage,"  he  continued.  "  Not  because 
it  is  so  very  dangerous,  I  suppose,  but  because  it  is 
too  small  to  attract  visitors  to  try  the  rough  water." 

"  They  can  get  to  it  easily  from  the  other  side, 
can't  they?  It  seems  so  near  to  that,"  said  Elise. 

"  No.  Jacques  tells  me  that  the  narrow  water  on 
the  other  side  runs  like  a  race-horse,  and  has  many 
rocks  to  smash  the  canoe.  Even  going  from  this 
side  I  would  prefer  to  leave  you  here,  Miss  Phillips, 
and  of  course  that  would  make  the  visit  without  in 
ducement  to  me." 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  73 

"  Yon  allow  your  carefulness  of  me  and  your  po 
liteness  to  me  to  reason  you  out  of  the  danger/'  said 
Elise,  without  any  sinister  purpose ;  but  Rutledge  re 
called  Helen  Phillips'  words  about  Elise  and  heroes, 
and  became  uncomfortable. 

"  I  used  them  to  reason  you  out  of  the  danger," 
he  replied.  "  If  the  argument  does  not  appeal  to  you 
I  am  ready  for  your  orders." 

"  Then  let's  go  over,"  said  Elise,  prompted  half  by 
the  challenge  in  his  eyes  and  half  by  her  subconscious 
desire  to  see  him  vindicate  his  feminine  grace. 

"  I  admit  I  am  a  coward,"  Rutledge  remarked  as 
he  turned  the  canoe  toward  the  island. 

"Oh,  if  you  confess  to  being  afraid!"  said  Elise 
in  mingled  surprise  and  pity.  "  I  certainly  cannot  in 
sist.  Let's  return  to  the  hotel." 

"  You  mistake  me,"  Rutledge  replied  as  he  sent  the 
light  craft  on  toward  the  rapids.  "  My  cowardice  is 
in  permitting  you  to  bully  me  into  carrying  you  into 
some  danger.  I  should  have  the  courage  to  refuse." 

"  You  would  have  me  believe  in  your  courage,  then, 
whether  you  choose  danger  or  avoid  it.  That  is  art 
ful,"  Elise  rejoined. 

The  word  "  artful  "  nettled  Rutledge,  and  he  put 
his  resentment  into  the  strokes  which  sent  the  canoe 
forward.  If  Elise  Phillips  could  believe  of  him  that 
he  would  attempt  to  establish  a  reputation  for  courage 
by  a  trick  of  words,  words  would  be  inadequate,  of 
course,  to  defend  him  from  the  imputation.  There 
was  no  chance  now  to  convince  her,  he  thought,  save 
to  try  the  passage.  So,  despising  the  weakness  which 
would  not  let  him  point  the  canoe  homeward,  he  set 
his  strength  against  the  increasing  current,  and  soon 


74  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

lost  thought  of  the  argument  in  the  zest  of  sparring 
with  the  river. 

Elise  became  absorbedly  interested  in  the  contest 
and  in  his  handling  of  the  boat.  The  interest  of  both 
became  more  and  more  intense  as  the  water  began  to 
slap  the  canoe  viciously  and  toss  them  with  careless 
strength.  A  wave  rolling  over  a  sunken  rock  rushed 
upon  them  with  a  gurgle  and  swash  and  passed  under 
the  canoe  with  a  heave  and  splash  that  tilted  them 
uncomfortably  and  threw  a  hatful  of  water  over  the 
side.  Another  came  with  a  more  impatient  toss,  and 
Elise  crouched  upon  the  seat  to  preserve  her  equilib 
rium.  Rutledge  looked  round  at  her  face,  which  was 
unsmiling  but  without  fear,  and  asked : 

"Shall  we  go  back?" 

"  No,"  the  girl  answered. 

They  soon  found  that  the  water  was  swifter  than 
they  had  judged  it  from  the  shore,  and  that  they  had 
not  put  across  far  enough  up-stream  to  make  the 
island  easily.  They  were  nearing  it,  but  the  current 
was  becoming  boisterous  and  they  were  drifting  faster 
and  faster  down-stream.  Swifter  water  and  rougher 
met  the  canoe  at  every  paddle-stroke.  Rutledge  with 
his  back  to  Elise  dropped  on  one  knee  in  the  water 
in  the  canoe  bottom  and  gave  every  energy  to  his 
work.  If  Elise  had  not  been  with  him  he  would  have 
liked  nothing  better. 

As  for  the  girl,  she  would  not  insist  on  this  wild 
ride  again,  but,  being  in,  she  was  having  many  thrills 
of  pleasure.  Rutledge's  manner  gave  her  confidence 
that  they  would  reach  the  island,  but  with  how  much 
discomfiture  she  was  as  yet  uncertain.  She  was 
drenched  with  water  from  the  slapping  waves  and  the 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  75 

swiftly  flying  paddle,  which  was  Rutledge's  only 
weapon  against  the  wrath  of  the  river.  She  saw  in 
his  resolute  efforts  that  their  situation  was  at  least 
serious  if  not  dangerous,  and  she  hardly  took  her  eyes 
from  him;  but  with  her  closest  scrutiny  she  did  not 
detect  the  slightest  indecision  or  apprehension. 

Only  once  did  fear  come  to  her,  and  that  but  for 
a  moment.  The  struggle  was  now  quick  and  furious. 
They  were  in  the  mad  whirl  of  crushing  water  that 
tore  alongside  the  island  and  was  ripped  and  ground 
among  the  bullying  rocks.  She  heard  Rutledge  stifle 
a  cry  as  he  sent  the  canoe  out  with  a  back-stroke  that 
almost  threw  her  overboard,  and  the  rioting  current 
slammed  them  past  a  jagged  vicious-looking  rock  just 
under  the  river's  surface  which  would  have  smashed 
their  cockle-shell  to  splinters.  When  she  looked  down 
upon  it  as  they  were  shot  past  she  thought  for  an 
instant  of  death  and  dead  men's  bones.  Then  - 

"Out!  Quick  —  now!"  yelled  Rutledge,  as  with  a 
strength  that  seemed  as  much  of  will  as  of  muscle, 
he  shoved  the  canoe's  nose  up  against  the  island  and 
held  it  for  a  moment  against  the  fury  of  the  water. 

Elise  rose  at  his  sharp  command  and  leaped  lightly 
out  upon  a  bare  rock,  giving  the  canoe  a  back  kick 
which  sent  it  swinging  around  broad  across  the  cur 
rent.  As  it  swung  off  Rutledge,  seeing  no  favourable 
place  below  him  to  make  another  landing,  quickly  gave 
his  end  of  the  boat  a  cant  toward  the  island,  dropped 
the  paddle  in  the  canoe,  grabbed  the  mooring  chain 
and  jumped  for  the  land.  He  jumped  and  alighted 
unsteadily  but  without  further  mishap  than  so  far 
capsizing  the  canoe  that  it  shipped  enough  water  to 
more  than  half  submerge  it  and  threaten  to  sink  it. 


76  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

With  his  effort  to  draw  it  up  on  the  rock  and  save  it 
from  sinking  entirely,  the  water  in  the  canoe  rushed 
to  the  outer  end,  sending  that  completely  under  and 
floating  the  paddle  out  and  away.  He  yanked  the 
canoe  up  on  the  island  and,  turning,  looked  straight 
into  Elise's  eyes  for  ten  seconds  without  speaking. 

"  Why  don't  you  say  it?  "  the  young  woman  asked 
with  amused  defiance. 

"Say  what?"  inquired  Rutledge. 

"  What  you  are  dying  to  tell  me." 

"  I  love  you,"  answered  Rutledge  simply. 

"  Oh !  You  —  you  —  impudent  —  you  horrible !  " 
cried  Elise  with  a  gasp.  "  To  presume  I  would  invite 
you  to  tell  me  —  that !  How  dare  you !  " 

"  I  dare  anything  for  you,"  said  Rutledge.  "  I 
love  you  and  - 

"  Stop !  Not  another  word  on  that  subject  —  lest 
your  presumption  become  unbearable!  You  know 
very  well,  Mr.  Stupidity,  that  I  expected  you  to  say 
'  I  told  you  so.' ' 

"  I  have  told  you  —  so  —  your  —  exp — 

"  Stop,  I  say !  I  will  not  listen  to  another  word. 
Your  persistence  is  almost  —  insulting !  " 

"  Insulting!  "  said  Rutledge  in  amazement.  "  Then 
pardon  me  and  I'll  not  offend  again ;  "  and  he  turned 
to  take  a  look  at  the  fast-riding  paddle  as  it  turned 
and  flashed  far  down  the  river. 

Elise  was  glad  of  the  chance  to  gather  her  wits 
together  and  prepare  a  defence  against  this  abrupt 
method  of  wooing.  Indeed  she  was  on  the  defensive 
against  her  own  heart.  One  fact  alone,  however, 
would  justify  her  deliberation :  that  she  was  not  cer- 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  77 

tain  of  her  own  mind.  Friendship  may  halt  and  con 
sider,  admiration  may  sit  in  judgment ;  but  love  that 
questions,  or  is  of  two  minds,  or  hesitates,  is  not  love. 

She  turned  away  from  him  and  the  river  to  give 
attention  to  this  new  problem  which  was  of  more  im 
mediate  interest  to  her  than  the  question  of  how  they 
were  to  get  away  from  the  island.  Rutledge  came 
to  her  after  awhile. 

"  Miss  Phillips,"  he  said,  "  I  have  the  honour  to 
report  that,  while  we  are  prisoners  on  this  island  now, 
our  imprisonment  will  not  be  lengthy.  Fortunately 
I  saw  Jacques  on  the  other  side  of  the  river  and  made 
him  understand,  I  think,  that  we  have  lost  our  paddle. 
At  any  rate  he  put  off  toward  the  hotel  at  great  speed, 
and  will  be  down  with  another  canoe  I  hope  before 
you  become  tired  of  your  island."  And  he  added,  as 
if  to  relieve  the  tense  situation :  "  While  we  wait  I 
shall  be  glad  to  show  you  over  the  premises  and  to 
talk  about  anything  that  you  may  prefer  to  discuss." 

Elise  could  not  tell  from  the  formal  manner  of 
Rutledge's  words  whether  he  was  really  offended  or 
humourously  stilted  in  his  speech.  She  could  be  as 
coldly  polite  as  any  occasion  demanded ;  but,  believ 
ing  that  she  had  effectually  put  an  end  to  his  love- 
making  for  the  day,  she  met  his  formality  of  manner 
in  her  naturally  charming  and  friendly  spirit. 

"  Sit  down  here  then,  and  tell  me  where  you 
learned  to  handle  a  canoe.  I  did  not  know  canoeing 
was  a  Southern  sport." 

"  It  is  not,"  Rutledge  said,  taking  the  place  she 
gave  him  at  her  feet.  "  I  was  never  in  a  canoe  till 
I  came  here  this  summer." 


78  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

"  Now,  Mr.  Rutledge,  don't  ask  too  much  of  cre 
dulity.  One  surely  cannot  become  skilful  without 
practice." 

"  I  did  not  mean  that  I  have  never  been  on  the 
water  before,"  said  Rutledge;  "but  in  my  country 
we  do  not  have  these  curved  and  graceful  canoes. 
We  navigate  our  rivers  with  the  primitive  dugout  or 
pirogue.  I  have  used  one  of  those  on  my  father's 
Pacolet  plantation  since  I  was  a  boy.  The  dugout  is 
made  by  hollowing  out  a  section  of  a  tree.  That 
makes  the  strongest  and  best  boat,  for  it  never  leaks 
or  gets  smashed  up.  It  is  very  narrow  and  shallow, 
however,  and  it  takes  some  skill  to  handle  it  in  a 
flood." 

"  Were  you  ever  in  a  flood  ?  —  a  worse  flood  than 
this?  "  asked  Elise. 

"  Yes.  When  our  little  rivers  get  up  they  are  as 
bad  as  this  or  worse.  I  have  seen  them  worse.  Dur 
ing  the  great  flood  on  the  Pacolet  some  years  ago, 
when  railroad  bridges,  mill  dams,  saw-mills,  cotton 
mills,  houses,  barns,  cotton  bales,  lumber,  cattle,  men, 
women  and  children  were  all  engulfed  in  one  watery 
burial,  the  little  river  was  for  six  hours  a  monster  - 
a  demon." 

"  Tell  me  about  that,"  Elise  said ;  and  to  entertain 
her  Rutledge  told  her  at  length  the  story  of  that  cata 
clysm  of  piedmont  South  Carolina.  He  went  into  the 
details  without  which  such  description  is  only  awful, 
not  interesting.  Many  were  the  incidents  of  heroism 
and  hairbreadth  escapes  and  unspeakable  calamity 
which  he  related;  and  he  told  the  stories  with  such 
vividness  of  portraiture,  dramatic  fire  and  touches  of 
pathos  that,  with  the  roar  of  many  waters  actually 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  79 

pounding  upon  her  ear-drums,  Elise  could  close  her 
eyes  and  see  the  scenes  he  depicted. 

In  looking  upon  the  pictures  he  drew  with  such 
living  interest  she  found  herself  straining  her  tight- 
shut  eyes  in  search  of  his  figure  among  the  throng 
that  lined  the  river-bank  or  fought  the  awful  flood. 
Time  after  time  as  he  described  an  act  of  heroic  cour 
age  in  words  that  burned  and  glowed  and  crackled 
with  the  fire  that  could  stir  only  an  eye-witness  or 
an  actor  in  the  unstudied  drama  he  was  reproducing, 
she  would  clothe  the  hero  with  Rutledge's  form,  iden 
tify  his  distinctive  gestures  and  movement  and  catch 
even  the  tones  of  his  voice  as  it  shouted  against  the 
booming  of  the  waters :  but  \vith  studied  regularity 
and  distinctness  Rutledge  at  some  point  in  every  story, 
incidentally  and  apparently  unconsciously,  would  make 
it  plain  that  the  hero  of  that  incident  was  a  person 
other  than  himself. 

He  might  have  told  her,  indeed,  many  things  to 
his  own  credit :  especially  of  a  desperate  ride  and 
struggle  in  one  of  those  dugouts  which  he  had  vol 
unteered  to  make  in  order  to  prevent  an  old  negro 
man  adrift  on  a  cabin-top  from  going  over  Pacolet 
Dam  Number  3,  where  so  many  unfortunates  went 
down  and  came  not  up  again;  but  at  no  time  could 
Elise  infer  from  his  speech  that  he  was  the  hero  of 
his  own  story.  Her  word  "  artful  "  still  rankled  in 
his  memory,  and  he  swore  to  his  own  soul  that  she 
should  never,  never  hear  him  utter  a  word  that  might 
show  he  possessed  or  claimed  to  possess  courage. 

The  only  method  by  which  Elise  could  deduce  from 
his  words  the  conclusion  that  Rutledge  was  of  cou 
rageous  heart  was  that  courage  seemed  such  a  com- 


80  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

monplace  virtue  among  the  people  of  his  section  that 
he  probably  possessed  his  share  of  it.  Her  curiosity 
was  finally  aroused  to  know  whether  by  any  artifice 
she  might  induce  him  to  tell  of  his  own  exploits,  which 
his  very  reticence  persuaded  her  must  be  many  and 
interesting,  and  she  brought  all  her  powers  into  play 
to  draw  him  out :  but  to  no  purpose.  She  refrained 
from  any  direct  appeal  to  him  in  fear  that  a  personal 
touch  might  turn  the  conversation  along  dangerous 
lines;  and  Rutledge,  having  been  properly  rebuked, 
waited  for  some  intimation  of  permission  before  pre 
suming  to  discuss  other  than  impersonal  themes. 

While  indeed  it  only  confirmed  her  woman's  intu 
ition,  Elise  was  unconsciously  happier  because  of  Rut- 
ledge's  blunt  statement  of  his  love,  for  it  made  certain 
a  fact  that  was  not  displeasing  to  her.  Yet  she  would 
hold  him  at  arm's  length,  for  she  could  with  sincerity 
bid  him  neither  hope  nor  despair.  The  glamour  of 
her  day-dreams  made  the  reading  of  her  heart's  mes 
sage  uncertain.  Rutledge  had  not  the  glittering  acces 
sories  that  attended  the  wooer  of  her  visions ;  and  yet 
as  he  talked  to  her  she  was  mentally  placing  him  in 
every  picture  her  mind  drew  of  the  future,  and  was 
impressed  that  whether  in  the  soft  scenes  where 
knightly  gallantry  and  grace  wait  upon  fair  women, 
or  in  the  stern  dramas  where  bitter  strength  of  mind 
and  heart  and  body  is  poured  out  in  libation  to  the 
god  of  grinding  conflict,  he,  in  every  scene,  looked  all 
that  became  a  man. 

Rutledge's  flow  of  narrative  and  Elise's  absent- 
minded  reverie  were  broken  in  upon  by  the  hail  of 
Jacques,  who  was  approaching  them  from  almost 
directly  up-stream.  His  canoe  was  doing  a  grape- 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  81 

vine  dance  as  he  pushed  it  yet  farther  across  the  river 
and  dropped  rapidly  clown  to  a  landing  on  the  far 
side  of  the  island. 

"Sacre!  Wrong  side!"  he  exclaimed  when  he 
came  across  and  saw  where  Rutleclge  had  pulled  his 
canoe  out  of  the  water.  "  Here  I  lose  two  canoe 
sometime.  How  you  mek  him  land  ?  " 

Rutledge  did  not  answer  the  question  but  set  about 
getting  his  canoe  across  the  island  to  the  point  desig 
nated  by  Jacques  as  the  place  for  leaving  it.  He  had 
no  desire  to  stay  longer  since  all  hope  of  further  tete- 
a-tctc  with  Elise  was  gone;  and  in  a  few  minutes 
they  were  ready  to  embark. 

"  No  hard  pull,  but  kvick  paddle  lak  feesh-tail," 
said  Jacques  in  explaining  the  course  by. which  they 
\vere  to  return,  the  which  was  plainly  beset  with  num 
berless  rocks  and  shoals. 

"  Sweem  out  seex  times  befor  I  lairn  road,"  he 
added  as  a  comforting  proof  of  the  thoroughness  of 
his  knowledge.  The  return  was  a  simple  matter  of 
dropping  off  from  the  far  side  of  the  island,  floating 
down  a  few  rods,  and  then  picking  along  through  the 
rocks  across  the  river  as  the  canoe  gathered  speed 
down-stream. 

"  Miss  Phillips,"  Rutledge  said  when  they  were 
ready,  "  perhaps  you  ,  had  better  take  ship  with 
Jacques.  He  knows  the  road." 

Their  rescuer  looked  pleased  at  the  honour,  and 
turned  to  pull  his  canoe  within  easier  reach. 

"  No,  thank  you,"  she  said  to  Rutledge.  "  I  prefer 
to  go  with  you." 

Rutledge  caught  his  breath  at  the  loyalty  and  the 
caress  in  her  voice,  and  ungratefully  wished  Jacques 


82  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

at  the  bottom  of  the  river.  He  handed  her  into  his 
canoe  with  a  tenderness  that  was  eloquent;  and 
Jacques,  seeing  through  the  game  which  robbed  him 
of  the  graceful  young  woman  for  a  passenger,  put  off 
just  ahead  of  them,  saying : 

"  I  go  fairst.     Follow  me  shairp." 

It  was  no  easy  task  to  follow  that  canoe;  and 
Elise,  as  she  watched  the  precision  with  which  Rut- 
ledge  used  the  "  kvick  paddle  lak  feesh-tail,"  was  con 
vinced  that  such  skill  had  not  gone  to  waste  at  the 
Pacolet  flood.  As  she  looked  at  him  when  the  rough 
water  was  past  and  he  was  sending  the  canoe  up  the 
river  with  even  swing  again,  graceful  as  before,  her 
eyes  had  a  light  in  them  that  would  have  gladdened 
his  heart  to  see. 

They  landed  near  the  hotel  and  hurried  straight  to 
it  upon  Elise's  plea  that  she  was  late  and  must  hurry 
to  dress  for  her  train.  Rutledge  walked  beside  her 
down  the  long  hall  of  the  hotel,  and  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairway,  feeling  that  opportunity  was  slipping  past 
him,  he  stopped  her  short  with  — 

"  Your  answer,  Elise !  In  heaven's  name,  your 
answer !  " 

Elise  was  again  startled  by  his  abruptness,  and  her 
unrestrained  heart's  impulse  sent  a  look  of  tenderness 
to  her  eyes  that  would  have  crowned  Rutledge's  life 
with  all  happiness,  had  not  that  glamour  of  her  day 
dreams,  fateful,  insistent,  overclouded  and  banished  it 
in  a  moment.  She  looked  at  him  confusedly  a  moment 
more,  then  took  a  quick  step  away  from  him,  hesi 
tated,  and,  turning  quickly,  said : 

"  There  is  no  answer,"    -  and  fled  up  the  stairs. 

Rutledge  turned  away  dazed  by  the  reply  to  his 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  83 

heart's  question.  "There  is  no  answer!"  — as  if  he 
were  a  "  Buttons  "  who  had  carried  to  her  ladyship  an 
inconsequential  message  which  deserved  no  reply. 
He  could  not  get  his  mind  to  comprehend  the  import 
of  it;  and  he  was  walking  back  down  the  hallway 
with  a  vexed  frown  upon  his  face  trying  to  untangle 
his  thoughts,  when  Helen  Phillips  passed  him  and, 
seeing  him  in  such  a  mood  after  his  parting  ride  with 
Elise,  prodded  him  with  - 

"  None  but  heroes  need  apply,  Mr.  Rutledge.  I 
warned  you." 

Rutledge  passed  on  with  an  irritated  shrug  of  the 
shoulders ;  and  Helen,  laughing,  ran  to  tease  Elise 
for  a  history  of  the  morning's  ride  and  the  reason 
"  why  Mr.  Rutledge  is  so  grumpy."  Little  satisfac 
tion  did  she  get  from  Elise,  however,  for  that  young 
woman  evinced  as  much  of  reticence  as  Rutledge  had 
shown  of  irritation. 

"  I  told  him  none  but  heroes  need  apply,"  laughed 
Helen. 

"  What  do  you  know  of  heroes?  "  asked  Elise  with 
a  snap. 


CHAPTER    IX 

WITHIN  a  week  after  Evans  Rutledge  and  Elise 
Phillips  parted  at  the  St.  Lawrence  resort,  the  news 
papers  told  the  people  that  at  a  Saratoga  restaurant 
Colonel  Phillips  and  his  wife  and  daughter,  and  Doc 
tor  Martin,  a  negro  of  national  reputation,  had  sat 
down  to  dine  together.  It  was  soon  after  this  that 
one  evening-,  at  his  home  in  Cleveland,  Ohio,  Colonel 
Phillips  happened  upon  a  mixed  quartette  (all  ne 
groes)  who  had  been  brought  over  from  New  York 
to  sing  at  a  sacred  concert  in  one  of  the  fashionable 
churches,  but  who  could  not  obtain  what  they  consid 
ered  a  respectable  lodging-place.  With  characteristic 
impulsiveness  the  Colonel,  who  heard  of  it,  invited  the 
two  men  and  two  women  up  to  his  house  and  enter 
tained  them  overnight. 

On  those  occasions  Mrs.  Phillips  had  shown  unmis 
takable  opposition  to  the  acts  of  her  liege  lord.  Elise 
had  more  than  seconded  her  mother  in  haughty  indig 
nation;  though  with  her  superb  training  in  obedi 
ence  she  could  not  be  openly  rebellious.  When  he 
had  brought  the  quartette  into  his  home  Mr.  Phillips 
could  not  fail  to  see  the  pain  in  his  wife's  eyes  as  she 
asked : 

"  Was  that  necessary  ?  " 

"  Why,  can  you  not  see,"  he  replied  with  some  hot 

84 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  85 

feeling  in  his  tones,  "  that  it  was  the  only  thing  to  be 
done?  They  are  very  respectable  people,  all  of  them. 
They  are  intelligent  and  well-bred,  as  you  can  see. 
Why  should  the  simple  matter  of  colour  alone  keep 
me  from  doing  what  I  just  as  quickly  might  have  done 
for  a  white  man?" 

The  unconscious  humour  of  this  way  of  putting  it 
did  not  reach  Mrs.  Phillips,  and  the  Colonel's  tone  and 
manner,  not  his  words,  kept  her  silent  when  he  had 
finished.  She  could  not  quarrel  with  him;  and  he 
thought  he  had  answered  her  reason,  though  he  ad 
mitted  inwardly  that  her  prejudices  were  unconverted. 
Nevertheless  he  did  not  open  the  discussion  again. 

Helen,  however,  naturally  siding  with  her  father, 
did  not  hesitate  to  bring  it  up  repeatedly,  and  youth 
fully  to  descant  at  length  and  with  some  elaboration 
of  ideas  on  the  propriety  and  admirableness  of  her 
father's  act.  Mrs.  Phillips,  with  the  sole  purpose 
of  preserving  parental  discipline  and  not  wishing  even 
slightly  to  encourage  insubordination,  had  very  little 
to  say  to  Helen  about  it;  while  Elise  answered  all 
the  younger  girl's  effusions  with  sniffs  of  disdain. 

These  incidents  and  Elise's  womanly  perversity  and 
curiosity  really  gave  Evans  Rutledge  a  great  oppor 
tunity  if  he  only  could  have  read  the  portents  of  cir 
cumstance  and  calculated  to  a  nicety  the  eccentricity 
of  a  woman's  heart.  The  entertainment  of  negro 
guests  at  the  mansion  of  an  aspirant  for  the  presidency 
was  given  wide  publicity  by  the  press  and  was  the 
subject  of  universal  though  temporary  notice  by  news 
papers  and  editorial  writers  of  every  class.  Rutledge, 
in  his  capacity  as  Washington  representative  of  a  half- 


86  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

dozen  newspapers  over  the  country,  contributed  his 
share  to  the  general  chorus  of  comment. 

When  Elise  read  in  a  Cleveland  paper  a  clipping  ac 
credited  to  "  Evans  Rutledge  in  Chicago  American," 
she  suddenly  became  desirous  of  seeing  that  young 
man  again.  The  sentiments,  stripped  of  the  tartness 
in  their  expression  and  a  seeming  lack  of  appreciation 
of  her  distinguished  father's  dignity,  were  so  in  ac 
cord  with  hers  that  she  was  startled  at  the  exact  coin 
cidence  of  thought  —  while  still  resentful  of  the  free 
and  fierce  criticism. 

Resentment  and  thoughts  of  coincidences  were 
pushed  out  of  her  mind,  however,  by  the  question, 
"  Would  he  tell  me  again  he  loves  me  ?  "  This  was 
both  a  personal  and  a  sentimental  question  and  was 
therefore  of  chief  interest  to  her  woman's  mind.  Not 
that  she  had  a  whit  more  of  love  for  him  than  upon 
that  last  day  upon  the  St.  Lawrence  —  oh,  no  ;  but  his 
love  for  her?  his  willingness  to  avow  it?  was  it  still 
hers?  was  it  ever  hers  really?  —  for  not  a  word  or 
a  line  had  he  addressed  to  her  since  the  day  they 
fought  the  river.  She  would  confess  to  a  slight  curi 
osity  and  desire  to  meet  him  when  she  should  go  to 
Washington  on  that  promised  visit  to  Lola  DeVale. 

Rutledge  assuredly  had  escaped  none  of  the  un 
toward  influences  which  the  Phillips-negro  incidents 
might  have  had  upon  his  love  for  Elise.  His  good 
mother  religiously  attended  to  the  duty  of  impressing 
upon  him  the  disgraceful  horrors  of  those  affairs. 
She  found  no  words  forceful  enough  properly  to  char 
acterize  them,  thought  she  applied  herself  with  each 
new  day  to  the  task.  What  might  have  been  the  result 
if  her  son's  heart  had  been  inclined  to  fight  for  the 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  87 

love  of  Elise  of  course  cannot  be  known.  His  moth 
er's  philippics  effected  nothing,  for  the  good  reason 
that  he  had  lost  hope  of  winning  Elise  before  the 
negro  incidents  occurred,  and  the  personal  turn  his 
mother  gave  them  was  only  tiresome  to  him.  Elise's 
last  words  to  him,  "  There  is  no  answer,"  had  put 
their  affair  beyond  the  effect  of  anything  of  that  sort. 
She  had  not  only  refused  him,  but  had  flouted  him, 
treated  him  with  contempt :  yes,  had  said  to  him  in 
effect  that  his  proffer  of  love  was  not  worth  even  a 
negative  answer.  He  had  gone  over  every  incident 
of  their  association,  and,  with  a  lover's  carefulness 
of  detail,  had  considered  and  weighed  her  every  word 
and  look  and  gesture;  and,  with  a  lover's  proverbial 
blundering,  had  found  as  a  fact  the  only  thing  that 
was  not  true. 

When  Elise  came  to  Washington  on  her  visit  Rut- 
ledge  knew  of  course  that  she  was  in  town,  and  he 
kept  his  eyes  open  for  her.  His  pride  would  not  let 
him  call  upon  her,  for  he  had  meditated  upon  her 
treatment  of  him  till  his  grievance  had  been  magni 
fied  many  fold  and  his  view  had  become  so  distorted 
that  in  all  her  acts  he  saw  only  a  purpose  to  play  with 
his  heart.  Yet,  he  wished  to  see  her,  wished  very 
much  to  s*ee  her  —  doubtless  for  the  same  reason  that 
a  bankrupt  will  look  in  upon  "  the  pit  "  that  has  en 
gulfed  his  fortune. 

They  met  unexpectedly  at  Senator  Ruffin's,  where 
only  time  was  given  them  to  shake  hands  in  a  non 
committal  manner  before  Mrs.  Ruffin  sent  them  in  to 
dinner  together.  If  each  had  spoken  the  thoughts  in 
the  heart  a  perfect  understanding  would  have  brought 


88  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

peace  and  friendship  at  least,  but  no  words  were 
spoken  from  the  heart.  All  of  their  conversational 
sparring  was  of  the  brain  purely.  They  fenced  with 
commonplaces  for  some  little  time,  each  on  guard. 
Rutledge,  without  a  thought  of  Doctor  Martin  or  the 
negro  quartette,  formed  all  of  his  speeches  for  the 
ear  of  a  woman  who  had  mocked  his  love ;  while 
Elise  talked  only  for  the  man  who  had  written  the 
article  in  the  Chicago  American.  She  saw  the  change 
in  his  manner,  in  his  polite  aloofness,  his  insincere, 
careless  pleasantries. 

"  It  is  delightfully  kind  of  you,  Miss  Phillips,  to 
come  over  and  give  Washington  some  of  those  thrills 
with  which  you  have  favoured  Cleveland." 

"  What  is  the  answer?  "  asked  Elise  blankly. 

"  My  meaning  is  no  riddle  surely,"  said  Rutledge. 
"  The  Cleveland  newspaper  reporters  have  taught  us 
to  believe  that  you  are  the  centre  of  interest  in  that 
city  and  that,  as  one  signing-  himself  '  O  '  wrote  in 
yesterday's  Journal,  — •  something  to  the  effect  that 
you  radiate  a  sort  of  three-syllable  waves  which  make 
the  younger  men  to  thrill  and  the  old  beaux  to  take 
a  new  lease  on  life.  When  I  read  that,  I  could  see  a 
lot  of  small  boys  crowding  around  an  electric  ma 
chine,  all  wanting  to  get  a  touch  of  the  current  but 
fearful  of  being  knocked  endways." 

"  Now  I  diagnose  the  form  of  your  dementia,"  said 
the  girl.  "  You  not  only  read  but  you  believe  the 
statements  of  the  penny-a-liners.  Your  case  is  hope 
less." 

"  I  must  read  somewhat  of  such  things  —  to  know 
my  craft.  I  must  believe  somewhat  of  them  —  to 
respect  my  craft." 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  89 

"  Is  either  knowledge  or  respect  necessary,  Mr. 
Rutledge?  The  craft  is  admitted;  but  I  had  thought 
the  purpose  of  all  this  craft  was  the  penny-a-line,  - 
not  knowledge  or  truth  —  which  are  not  only  inci 
dental  but  often  unwelcome.  Why  read  or  believe  the 
line  after  the  cent  has  been  paid?  " 

"  You  are  unmerciful  to  us,  Miss  Phillips.  It  is 
true  every  news  item  of  interest  has  its  money  value 
for  a  newspaper  man,  but  you  must  understand  that 
we  try  to  use  them  honestly  and  say  no  more  than 
we  feel  —  often  far  less  than  we  feel." 

Rutledge's  manner  was  serious  when  he  had  fin 
ished  ;  and  Elise,  feeling  sure  that  the  same  incident 
was  in  his  mind  as  in  hers,  had  it  on  her  tongue's  end 
to  reply  with  spirit  and  point,  when  he  continued 
lightly : 

"  But  that  is  shop.  It  is  good  of  you  to  come  over 
now  and  gradually  accustom  us  to  those  O-waves  in 
stead  of  giving  us  the  sudden  full  current  when  Colo 
nel  Phillips  rents  the  White  House.  You  will  not 
care  if  some  few  become  immune  before  that  time, 
for  there  will  be  no  end  of  rash  youths  to  get  tangled 
up  with  the  \vires." 

Elise  had  not  been  a  woman  if  Rutledge's  imper 
sonal  "  we  "  and  "  us  "  and  suggestion  of  persons 
immune  to  her  charms  had  not  piqued  her.  He  need 
not  put  his  change  of  heart  so  bluntly,  she  thought. 
Yet  what  incensed  her  was  not  the  loss  of  his  love, 
but  that  that  love  had  been  so  poor  and  frail  a  thing. 

"  I  am  glad  you  guarantee  a  full  supply  of  the  raw 
material,  Mr.  Rutledge.  It  is  a  very  interesting  study, 
I  think,  to  watch  the  effect  of  the  —  current  —  on 
youths  of  different  temperaments :  on  the  black-haired, 


90  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

black-eyed  one  who  raves  and  swears  his  love  —  to 
two  women  in  the  same  month;  or  the  light-haired, 
blue-eyed  one  who  laughs  both  while  the  current  is  on 
and  when  it  is  off;  or  the  red-headed  lover  who  will 
not  take  '  no  '  for  an  answer ;  or  the  gray-eyed,  brown- 
haired  man  who  would  appear  indifferent  while  his 
heart  is  consuming  with  a  passion  that  changes  not 
even  when  hope  is  gone.  I  will  depend  on  you  to  see 
that  they  all  come  along,  Mr.  Rutledge  —  even  to  that 
young  Congressman  over  there  \vho  is  so  devoted  to 
Lola,"  she  added  in  an  undertone,  "  if  he  can  be  per 
suaded  to  change  his  court." 

"  Oh,  he  will  come.  His  present  devotion  does  not 
signify.  There  is  nothing  true  but  Heaven,"  Rut- 
ledge  replied,  not  to  be  outdone  in  cynicism  by  this 
young  woman  who  had  quite  taken  his  breath  away 
with  her  impromptu  classification  of  lovers.  His  own 
hair  was  black  and  his  eyes,  like  hers,  were  gray;  and 
he  saw  she  was  making  sport  of  him  under  both  cate 
gories  and  yet  betraying  not  her  real  thought  in  the 
slightest  degree. 

"  Beware,  Mr.  Rutledge.  Only  woman  may  change 
her  mind.  Men  must  not  usurp  our  prerogative." 

'"True,"  said  Rutledge;  "but  a  man  does  not 
know  his  mind  or  his  heart  either  till  he's  forty.  He 
is  not  responsible  for  the  guesses  he  makes  before 
that  time.  After  that,  he  know^s  only  what  he  does 
not  want  —  which  is  much ;  and,  if  undisturbed,  can 
enjoy  a  negative  consistency  and  content." 

"  I  may  not  defend  the  sex  against  such  an  able 
and  typical  representative,"  said  Elise  as  the  diners 
arose. 

Neither  of  these  wholesome-minded  young  people 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  91 

had  any  taste  for  such  a  fictitious  basis  of  conversa 
tion  ;  but  each  was  on  the  defensive  against  the  sup 
posed  attitude  of  the  other,  and  the  moment  their 
thoughts  went  outside  conventional  platitudes  they 
were  given  an  unnatural  and  cynical  twist.  Both  felt 
a  sense  of  relief  when  the  evening  was  past.  But 
despite  this  condition,  which  prevailed  during  Elise's 
visit,  Rutledge  could  not  put  away  the  desire  to  see 
as  much  of  her  as  an  assumption  of  indifference  would 
permit,  if  only  with  the  unf cumulated  hope  that  he 
might  catch  unawares  if  but  for  a  moment  the  un 
studied  good  camaraderie  and  congenial  spirit  which 
had  won  his  heart  on  the  St.  Lawrence.  But  the 
sensitive  consciousness  of  one  or  the  other  ever  had 
been  present  to  exorcise  the  natural  spirit  from  their 
conversations. 

Rutledge  lived  bravely  up  to  his  ideas  of  what  a 
proper  pride  demanded  of  him,  but  his  assumption 
of  indifference  \vas  sorely  tried  from  their  first  meet 
ing  at  Senator  Rufrin's.  The  mischief  began  with 
Elise's  offhand  little  discourse  on  the  colour  of  eyes 
and  hair  as  indicia  of  the  traits  and  fates  of  lovers 
-  particularly  with  her  statement  that  a  red-headed 
iran  will  not  take  a  woman's  "  no  "  for  an  answer. 
The  point  in  that  which  irritated  the  cuticle  of  Mr. 
Rutledge's  indifference  was  that  Mr.  Second  Lieu 
tenant  Morgan  had  a  head  of  flame. 

Now  man  —  natural  man  —  usually  has  the  intel 
ligence  to  know  when  a  thing  is  beyond  his  reach, 
and  the  philosophy  to  content  himself  without  it.  He 
rejoices  also  in  his  neighbour's  successes.  But  natural 
man,  with  all  his  intelligence  and  all  his  philosophy 
and  all  his  brotherly  love,  cannot  look  with  patience 


92  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

or  self-deceit  upon  another's  success  or  probable  suc 
cess  where  he  himself,  striving,  has  failed.  In  the 
whole  realm  of  human  experience  there  are  excep 
tions  to  this  rule  perhaps;  but  in  the  tropical  prov 
ince  of  Love  there  is  none.  There  a  man  may  con 
clude  that  the  woman  he  wants  would  not  be  good 
for  him,  even  perforce  may  decide  he  loves  her  not : 
but  the  merest  suggestion  of  another  man  as  a  prob 
able  winner  will  surely  bring  his  decision  up  for  re 
view  —  and  always  to  overrule  it.  So  with  Rutledge : 
from  the  moment  of  Elise's  unstudied  remark  he  con 
ceded  to  his  own  heart  that  his  indifference  was  the 
veriest  sham  and  pretence  —  while  still  a  pretence 
necessary  to  his  self-respect. 


CHAPTER    X 

HAYWARD  GRAHAM,  with  an  honourable  discharge 
from  the  service  of  the  United  States  buttoned  up  in 
his  blouse,  was  taking  a  look  at  Washington  before 
going  back  to  re-enlist.  He  liked  the  army  life,  with 
all  its  restrictions ;  and  having  by  his  intelligence  and 
aptitude  attained  the  highest  non-commissioned  rank, 
he  was  optimistic  enough  to  believe  he  could  win  a 
commission  before  another  term  of  enlistment  ex 
pired.  In  this  hope  he  was  not  without  a  fair  idea 
of  the  obstacle  which  his  colour  placed  in  the  path 
of  his  ambition ;  but  in  weighing  his  chances  he 
counted  much  on  the  friendliness  of  the  newly  inau 
gurated  executive  for  the  negro  race  generally,  and 
most  of  all  on  the  President's  according  his  deserts 
to  a  man  who  had  saved  his  life.  He  would  keep  his 
identity  in  that  respect  a  secret  till  the  time  was  ripe, 
so  that  the  President's  sense  of  obligation,  if  it  ex 
isted,  might  not  be  dulled  by  the  granting  of  any 
premature  favours  —  and  then  he  would  see  whether 
gratitude  would  make  a  man  do  justice. 

He  had  more  than  a  month  yet  in  which  to  re-enlist 
without  loss  of  rank  or  pay,  and  his  visit  to  Washing 
ton  was  intended  to  be  short,  as  he  had  several  other 
little  picnics  planned  with  which  to  fill  out  his  vaca 
tion.  He  had  been  there  ten  days  or  more  and  he 
had  walked  and  looked  and  lounged  till  he  was  thor- 

93 


94  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

oughly  tired  of  the  city  and  was  decided  to  leave  on 
the  morrow. 

But  that  last  afternoon  he  saw  Helen  Phillips. 
Her  carriage  was  driven  slowly  across  the  sidewalk 
in  front  of  him  to  enter  the  White  House  grounds. 
The  sudden  quickening  of  his  pulses  at  sight  of  her 
was  unaccountable  to  him.  His  gaze  followed  her 
as  she  went  away  from  him,  and  for  the  first  time  in 
months  he  remembered  in  dumb  pain  he  was  a  negro. 
He  tried  to  separate  the  thought  of  his  blood  from 
his  thought  of  the  young  woman,  and  to  put  the  first 
and  its  unpleasantness  out  of  his  mind  while  he  en 
joyed  the  latter  and  its  association  with  his  college 
victory  and  his  patriotic  enthusiasms :  but  he  could 
not  think  of  her  without  that  indefinable  and  subcon 
scious  heartache. 

When  he  came  to  his  lodgings  and  opened  up  the 
afternoon  paper,  the  only  item  among  all  the  notes 
of  interest  that  had  the  power  to  catch  or  hold  his 
thought  for  a  moment  was  a  brief  statement  to  the 
effect  that  the  veteran  White  House  coachman  was 
dead.  Hayward  sat  and  turned  this  over  in  his  mind 
a  few  minutes  and  then  asked  himself  "  Why  not?  " 

Next  morning  he  applied  for  the  vacant  position 
of  coachman  to  the  President.  With  the  purpose  to 
conceal  his  identity  during  his  little  adventure,  as  he 
thought  of  it,  he  gave  only  his  Christian  names : 
John  Hayward.  With  similar  purpose  he  had  dressed 
himself  in  civilian  clothes;  but  these  could  not  con 
ceal  his  magnificent  lines,  and,  though  another  em 
ployee  had  been  given  the  dead  coachman's  place, 
Hayward's  fine  appearance  was  so  much  in  his  favour 
that  he  was  engaged  as  footman  on  trial.  This  was 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  95 

really  better  suited  to  his  wishes  than  the  other.  He 
had  not  foregone  his  army  ambition  in  a  night,  but 
neither  had  he  been  able  to  resist  the  temptation  to 
spend  a  short  time  — -  the  remainder  of  his  furlough 
at  least  —  where  he  could  see  something  of  the  young 
woman  who  was  so  closely  associated  in  his  mind 
with  the  events  in  his  life  that  were  worth  while. 

Hayward  was  not  in  love  with  Helen  Phillips  in 
any  sense  —  at  least  not  in  the  ordinary  sense ;  for 
that  undefined  pain,  a  dumb  monitor  of  the  impossi 
ble,  kept  him  hedged  away  from  that.  On  the  other 
hand,  to  his  mite  of  natural  feeling  of  inferiority 
was  added  the  respect  for  rank  and  dignity  which  his 
army  life  had  hammered  into  him;  and  his  attitude 
toward  her  was  the  devotion  which  a  loyalist  peasant 
soldier  might  have  for  the  daughter  of  his  king.  He 
wished  to  be  near  her,  to  serve  her;  and  he  counted 
himself  fortunate  that  this  opportunity  had  come  to 
him. 

-  And  a  superb  footman  he  made,  having  every 
aptitude  and  manner  both  of  mind  and  body  for  form 
and  show ;  and  being  relieved  of  any  humiliation  of 
spirit  by  his  secret  feeling  that  he  had  set  himself  to 
guard  and  serve  a  crown  princess. 

A  superb  footman  he  made  —  and  a  new-rich  Pitts- 
burger  offered  him  double  wages  to  enter  his  service. 
The  sneer  with  which  Hayward  told  him  that  he  was 
not  working  for  money  ever  will  be  a  riddle  to  that 
Pittsburg  brain. 

A  superb  footman  he  made;  and  with  the  added 
distinction  of  the  President's  livery  he  always  drew 
attention  and  comment.  The  veteran  Senator  Ruffin 
was  entertaining  a  few  friends  with  reminiscences 


96  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

once  when  Hayward  passed.  One  of  the  party  said : 
"  Look  at  that  footman.  Phillips  has  a  fine  eye  for 
form,  hasn't  he?  " 

"  Yes,"  Senator  RufBn  answered,  "  if  he  saw  him 
before  he  employed  him,  which  he  very  likely  did 
not. 

"  But  do  you  know,"  he  went  on,  "  I  never  see  that 
nigger  but  I  think  of  John  Hayward  of  whose  last 
speech  in  Congress  I  was  telling  some  of  you  yester 
day.  The  nigger  has  his  figure  and  carriage,  even  the 
set  and  toss  of  his  head,  about  everything  save  his 
colour.  The  first  time  I  saw  him  get  down  from  the 
Phillips'  carriage  I  thought  of  John  Hayward,  who 
is  dead  these  fifty  years. 

"  There  was  a  man  for  you,  gentlemen.  No  more 
knightly  spirit  was  ever  carried  in  a  kinglier  figure  of 
a  man.  He  was  just  out  of  college  when  I  was  a 
boy,  but  I  can  remember  that  even  then  John  Hay- 
ward  was  a  toast  and  a  young  man  of  mark  down  in 
Carolina.  Our  fathers'  plantations  adjoined,  and  he 
was  the  first  man  that  ever  stirred  in  my  boyish  heart 
the  sentiment  of  hero-worship.  The  Haywards  were 
men  of  note  in  my  State  in  that  day  as  in  this,  and 
young  John  Hayward's  future  was  as  brilliant  and 
well-assured  as  wealth,  fine  family,  abounding  talent, 
high  purpose  and  personal  force  of  character  could 
make  it." 

—  "  But  we  lost  him.  A  former  half-Spanish,  half- 
devil  overseer  on  his  father's  plantation,  who  had  been 
discharged  because  of  his  cruelty  and  general  wicked 
ness,  had  bought  a  small  farm  near  the  elder  Hay- 
ward's  place,  and  was  trying  to  establish  himself  as  a 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  97 

land  and  slave  holder.  This  overseer  came  back  from 
one  of  his  periodical  trips  bringing  with  him  one  of 
the  likeliest  mulatto  girls,  as  I  remember  it  now,  that 
I  ever  saw.  All  the  neighbours  knew  he  could  have 
no  good  purpose  in  buying  her,  for  he  needed  no 
house-girl  to  keep  dressed  up  in  calico  as  he  began 
to  keep  her.  It  was  but  a  few  days  before  reports 
of  his  terrible  cruelty  to  her  began  to  be  circulated 
by  both  negroes  and  white  people,  who  heard  her 
screams  as  he  whipped  her  day  and  night. 

"  Late  one  afternoon,  a  week  perhaps  after  he  had 
brought  her  home,  John  Hayward  and  Dick  Whitaker 
were  riding  through  the  overseer's  farm  and  heard 
the  girl  scream.  John,  who  was  acquainted  with  the 
situation,  said,  '  Come  on,  Dick,  let's  go  up  and  stop 
that ;  '  and  put  his  horse  at  the  little  gate  and  was 
pounding  on  the  overseer's  door  before  Dick  could 
reply. 

"  The  sound  of  blows  ceased  and  the  overseer  came 
and  opened  the  door,  revealing  the  girl  crouched  down 
on  the  floor  moaning  and  sobbing.  When  the  slave- 
driver  saw  it  was  John  his  eyes  snapped  in  wrath. 

"  '  What  do  you  want?  '  he  demanded. 

"  '  I  want  you  to  quit  whipping  that  nigger,'  said 
John. 

"  '  You  go  to  hell,'  retorted  the  overseer.  '  I'll 
whip  my  slaves  whenever  they  won't  work  like  I  —  ' 

"  '  Oh,  master,  I  work,  I  work,'  protested  the  girl 
to  John. 

"  '  Shut  up !    you  -    '  began  the  overseer. 

"'Yes,  I  know  you  work,'  said  John  to  the  girl; 
and  he  turned  to  the  man,  '  and  I  know  —  everybody 


98  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

knows  —  what  your  purpose  is,  you  fiend !  My  God, 
it  is  crime  enough  for  such  as  you  to  own  the  bodies 
of  women  without  your  tearing  their  souls ! ' 

"  '  Get  off  my  land,  damn  you! '  ordered  the  over 
seer;  and  then,  as  if  to  show  his  contempt  for  Hay- 
ward  and  Whitaker,  he  turned  again  to  begin  flog 
ging  the  cowering  girl,  saying :  '  She's  my  property, 
and  the  law  gives  me  the  right  to  make  her  obey ! ' 

"  '  Stop !  '  thundered  John,  laying  his  hand  on  his 
pistol  as  the  slave-driver  raised  his  arm  to  strike. 
'  You  son  of  hell !  The  man  who  puts  the  weight  of 
his  hand  on  a  woman,  even  his  wife,  to  make  her  obey 
his  passions,  deserves  to  die ! ' 

"  Whitaker  said  it  was  all  over  before  he  could 
slide  from  his  horse.  The  overseer  struck  the  girl  a 
vicious  cut  as  John  was  speaking,  and  his  whip  was 
descending  again  when  John's  pistol  flashed  and  the 
brute  dropped  to  the  floor  with  a  ball  through  his 
brain.  .  .  . 

'  That  was  why  my  State  lost  John  Hayward,"  the 
Senator  continued  after  a  pause.  "  It  was  seen  at 
once  that  he  must  not  come  to  trial.  While  the  plea 
of  self-defence  can  always  be  set  up,  the  fact  that 
John  had  killed  the  overseer  in  his  own  house  and 
after  being  ordered  out,  would  have  made  the  law 
quite  too  risky.  But  beyond  that  it  would  have  been 
necessary,  in  order  that  the  jury's  sympathy  might 
override  the  law,  to  make  such  a  presentation  of  the 
proper  limitations,  and  the  abuses  and  horrors,  of 
slave  management  as  would  be  clearly  inimical,  if  not 
actually  dangerous,  to  public  order  and  safety. 

"  So  the  State  lost  John  Hayward,"  the  Senator 
rambled  on.  "  He  exiled  himself  less  for  his  own 


"  HIS    WHIP    WAS    DESCENDING    AGAIN    WHEN    JOHN'S 
PISTOL    FLASHED." 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  99 

safety  than  for  the  sake  of  a  system  for  which  he  had 
no  sympathy,  but  in  which  seemed  to  be  bound  up 
the  peace  and  happiness,  the  very  existence,  of  his 
people.  .  .  .  He  went  away,  but  the  shadow  of  the 
Black  Peril  was  upon  his  life  to  the  end.  .  .  .  He 
went  to  Massachusetts,  located  in  Boston,  and  began 
to  practise  law.  He  was  successful  from  the  begin 
ning,  though  he  always  spent  everything  he  made. 
He  married  a  most  lovable  an4  beautiful  woman  of 
the  finest  family,  and  life  again  promised  all  he  had 
once  seemingly  lost.  .  .  .  He  had  been  in  Congress 
two  terms  when  I  was  first  elected  to  the  House. 
Mrs.  Hayward  was  the  most  gracious  lady  I  ever 
knew,  and  they  made  my  first  years  here  at  Washing 
ton  altogether  enjoyable,  for  they  knew  everybody 
that  was  worth  knowing  and  were  great  entertainers. 
I  remember  that  as  a  young  bachelor  Congressman 
I  used  to  think  that  if  I  only  had  John  Hay  ward's 
constituency  and  a  wife  the  equal  of  his  in  beauty, 
intelligence  and  diplomacy,  I  could  be  President  with 
out  trouble.  .  .  .  We  served  together  in  Congress  till 
the  beginning  of  the  Great  War.  It  was  just  before 
the  outbreak  that  that  fateful  shadow  fell  again  upon 
him.  His  son  —  named  for  him  :  John  Graham  Hay- 
ward  —  a  boy  that  I  had  watched  grow  up  from  a 
lad  and  loved  as  my  own,  was  a  student  at  Harvard 
and  had  acquired  many  ideas  of  which  his  father  had 
no  knowledge,  and  which  would  have  startled  him  — 
with  all  his  well-known  anti-slavery  sentiments.  The 
boy's  mother  looked  on  the  negro  race  purely  from  a 
missionary  standpoint,  and  had  never  given  a  serious 
thought,  I  am  sure,  to  the  negro's  social  status. 
"  You  perhaps  may  imagine  the  shock  that  came  to 


100          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

John  Hayward  on  going  home  late  one  afternoon  to 
dinner  to  find  already  seated  at  his  table  his  wife,  his 
son,  and  a  young  negro  about  his  son's  age  whom  the 
boy  had  brought  in  to  dine  with  him.  .  .  .  John  told 
me  about  it  a  few  months  afterward,  and  even  then, 
with  all  his  heart-break,  his  eyes  would  blaze  with  an 
insane  anger  as  he  thought  of  that  nigger  at  his  table. 
.  .  .  He  looked  at  the  three  for  a  moment;  and  then 
he  said  things  that  blasted  his  home.  He  kicked  the 
nigger  incontinently  out  of  his  house,  and  was  beside 
himself  in  the  furious  wrath  he  hurled  upon  his  wife 
and  son.  The  boy  resented  his  outburst,  especially 
because  of  its  cruel  effect  upon  the  mother.  The 
father  in  uncontrollable  anger  at  his  son's  resentful 
opposition  ordered  him  to  leave  his  roof,  and  told 
him  that  he  was  unworthy  of  the  name  of  Hayward 
and  had  disgraced  it  beyond  repair.  The  boy  replied 
with  spirit  that  he  would  not  carry  the  name  of  Hay- 
ward  away  from  the  house,  but  would  renounce  both 
the  house  and  it  then,  there  and  for  ever,  and  walked 
out  of  the  door.  .  .  .  On  his  knees  did  John  implore 
his  wife's  forgiveness,  and  receive  it;  but  neither 
father  nor  mother  ever  saw  the  boy  again.  .  .  .  John 
tried,  I  think,  to  learn  his  whereabouts,  and  was 
driven  to  desperation  as  he  met  failure  at  every  point. 
The  moment  the  call  came  for  troops,  he  resigned  his 
seat  in  Congress,  volunteered  in  a  Massachusetts  regi 
ment  and  was  killed  at  Bull  Run.  .  .  . 

"  As  he  was  lost  to  his  native  State,  so  he  was  lost 
to  the  nation  —  because  the  baleful  shadow  of  the 
Black  Peril  seemed  to  be  upon  his  life.  .  .  .  Heaven 
save  my  people  —  nine-tenths  of  whom,  like  him, 
would  deal  with  the  negro  in  justice  and  righteous- 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          101 

ness  and  helpfulness  —  from  the  stress  and  the  blood 
of  an  open  conflict  against  social  equality  with  the 
negro  race,  and  from  the  further  unspeakable,  un 
thinkable  horror  of  defeat  in  such  a  conflict  if  it  shall 
come  upon  them." 


CHAPTER    XI 

THERE  can  be  no  doubt  Hayward  found  scant  rec 
ompense  for  his  first  month's  service  as  part  of  the 
White  House  menage.  The  money  consideration  of 
that  service,  as  he  told  the  gentleman  from  Pittsburg, 
he  valued  as  nothing;  and  yet  it  was  the  money  that 
held  him  over  beyond  the  time  limit  he  had  set  for 
his  little  adventure  and  his  return  to  the  army.  He 
put  his  eyes  on  Helen  but  twice  during  the  month, 
and  that  only  for  a  moment,  and  he  had  taken  his 
leave  of  Washington  in  less  than  a  fortnight  if  his 
training  in  the  service  had  not  accustomed  him  to 
bear  monotony  with  patience. 

Before  his  time  was  up,  however,  a  letter  from  his 
mother  told  him  that  she  was  hardly  able  longer  to 
bear  the  burden  of  her  own  support  or  even  to  supple 
ment  his  contributions  by  any  appreciable  efforts  of 
her  own.  Too  long  and  too  closely  indeed  had  she 
striven  in  his  behalf,  and  the  overwork  was  demand 
ing  its  pound  of  flesh  in  severe  and  relentless  com 
pensation.  Hayward  thought  he  saw  the  hand  of  a 
kindly  Providence  in  having  already  provided  him 
with  a  wage  sufficient  to  keep  both  his  mother  and 
himself  from  want  —  which  his  soldier's  pay  would 
not  have  accomplished;  and  he  postponed  his  mili 
tary  ambition  and  brought  her  to  Washington,  where 
he  might  look  after  her  comfort  more  carefully  and 

102 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          103 

less  expensively.  Very  grateful  was  he  for  an  oppor 
tunity  to  care  and  provide  for  her  whose  devotion 
he  had  always  known,  but  the  heroism  and  stress  of 
whose  struggles  and  the  wonders  of  whose  money- 
working  he  was  beginning  to  appreciate  only  since 
leaving  the  all-providing  care  with  which  she  and  the 
quartermaster  had  hedged  him  about  from  the  morn 
ing  of  his  birth  till  ninety  days  ago. 

While  his  intelligence,  his  spirit,  his  cultivated 
ideals  would  not  let  him  rest  in  entire  content  as  a 
menial  —  a  footman  to  however  high  a  personage  — 
Hayward  yet  found  his  first  real  basis  of  self-respect 
in  the  consciousness  of  his  responsibility  for  his  moth 
er's  support  and  happiness,  and  in  the  feeling  that  he 
was  equal  to  the  duty  so  plainly  laid  upon  him.  How 
ever  he  had  no  thought  but  that  his  present  work  was 
temporary;  and,  to  satisfy  his  taste  for  mental  rec 
reation  and  improvement  as  well  as  to  have  a  definite 
purpose  in  his  mental  pursuits,  he  began  in  his  spare 
hours  to  study  the  books  that  pertained  to  his  pro 
posed  life-work  as  an  officer  of  the  army. 

His  first  summer  in  Washington  added  no  little 
to  his  stock  of  that  knowledge  which  men  acquire  not 
out  of  books  but  at  first  hand.  He  had  seen  as  an 
onlooker  something  of  life  on  both  sides  of  the  earth, 
and  had  acquired  more  of  the  spirit  of  a  cosmopolite 
than  nine-tenths  of  the  statesmen  who  foregathered 
in  the  nation's  capital  to  formulate  world-policies: 
and  yet  of  the  actual  conditions  of  life,  of  living, 
which  affected  him  as  a  bread-winner,  as  a  social  unit, 
as  one  having  a  part  in  the  Kingdom  of  the  Spirit,  he 
was  at  the  very  beginning  of  knowledge  when  he 
donned  the  White  House  livery.  His  effervescence 


104          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

of  interest  in  Helen  Phillips  in  great  measure  sub 
sided,  naturally,  among  the  many  new  problems  that 
came  to  meet  him,  and  with  his  frequent  commonplace 
beholding  of  her. 

He  soon  was  brought  to  realize  that  rigid  limita 
tions  were  upon  him  not  only  by  the  colour-line  which 
was  drawn  straight  as  a  knife's  edge  from  top  to  bot 
tom  of  Washington,  but  by  fences  and  barriers  inside 
the  confines  of  his  own  race  against  which  he  stum 
bled  repeatedly  and  blindly  before  he  dreamed  they 
existed.  On  several  occasions  he  had  met  with  slight 
rebuffs  in  his  friendly  advances  to  persons  of  his  own 
colour,  and  ascribed  them  to  ill-temper  or  uncouth 
manners;  but  he  finally  received  a  jolt  which  waked 
him  up  —  in  this  fashion  : 

He  dropped  in  at  the  most  imposing  negro  church 
in  the  city  one  Sunday  evening,  and  heard  a  young 
woman  of  comely  face  and  person,  dressed  in  perfect 
taste,  sing  a  solo  which,  in  the  sentiment  and  the 
purity  and  pathos  of  the  singer's  voice,  met  his  idea 
of  all  that  is  exquisite  in  song.  When  the  service 
was  finished  he  spoke  to  a  well-groomed  man  past 
middle  age  who  had  sat  beside  him. 

"  The  young  lady  who  sang  did  it  with  marvellous 
taste  and  beauty.  She  knows  both  how  to  sing  and 
what  to  sing;  and  since  I'm  at  it  I  may  as  well  say 
that  she's  no-end  good-looking." 

The  older  man  could  not  conceal  his  satisfaction 
and  interest,  for  he  had  expended  many  dollars  on 
the  singer. 

"  I'm  delighted  you  think  so,"  he  returned.  "  My 
daughter  has  had  great  advantages  and  she  ought  to 
sing  well." 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          105 

"Your  daughter?"  said  Hayward.  "You  should 
be  very  proud  of  her.  Will  you  not  introduce  me  to 
her?  I'd  like  to  thank  her  for  my  share.  I  am  John 
Hayward "  —  and  feeling  some  identification  was 
necessary  —  "  footman  at  the  White  House." 

"  Excuse  me,  suh,"  said  the  other,  with  but  a  very 
slightly  overdone  manner;  "we  don't  introduce 
strangers  to  our  families  —  specially  footmen." 

The  father's  manner  was  not  intended  to  be  offen 
sive,  but  his  answer  verily  exploded  in  Hayward's 
face.  Thanks  to  the  younger  man's  training  he  did 
not  wince  or  change  countenance,  but  he  was  so  burst 
ing  full  of  wrath  that  he  never  knew  whether  any 
further  word  was  spoken  between  them.  He  moved 
with  the  throng  toward  the  door,  but  stepped  into  a 
vacant  pew  for  fear  he  would  run  over  some  one  in 
furious  impatience.  True  it  was  that  in  his  attempt 
to  volunteer  three  years  before,  he  had  been  roughly 
impressed  with  the  idea  that  there  was  some  recog 
nized  difference  between  a  white  man  and  a  negro, 
and  in  his  association  with  the  rough  troopers  of  the 
loth  Cavalry  he  had  become  in  a  measure  converted 
to  the  correctness  of  the  proposition  generally :  "  but," 
he  thought  in  infuriated  scorn,  "  I'm  as  good  as  any 
nigger  that  ever  drew  breath !  A  footman,  am  I  ?  " 
—  and  he  threw  back  his  head  with  pride  as  he  re 
called  his  answer  to  the  man  from  Pittsburg  —  but 
dropped  it  again  with  some  humility  at  the  thought 
that  he  was  now  a  footman  for  the  money  it  brought. 
At  the  door  he  spoke  to  an  usher. 

"  Who  was  the  young  woman  who  sang?  " 

"  Miss  Porter  —  old  Henry  Porter's  daughter." 

"  So    the    old    scoundrel    is    Washington's    richest 


106          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

negro,"  he  thought.  "  Well,  his  manners  and  his 
money  are  not  well  matched.  I'll  even  the  score  with 
him  yet." 

After  the  first  heat  of  his  resentment  was  off  he 
admitted  that  his  request  to  be  presented  to  the  negro 
magnate's  daughter  was  abrupt,  informal  and  unwar 
ranted,  perhaps,  but  he  argued  and  insisted  that  old 
Porter  ought  to  have  seen  that  his  unconventional 
request  was  an  impulsive  outcome  of  his  admiration 
for  the  girl's  singing,  and  at  least  have  been  a  little 
more  gracious  in  his  refusal.  No,  he  would  not  for 
give  the  manner  of  it;  and  when  he  remembered  the 
song  and  its  delight  to  his  senses  he  found  it  about 
as  hard  to  forgive  the  refusal  itself. 

Not  in  three  years,  except  for  an  occasional  mo 
ment  of  patriotic  uplift,  had  his  soul  had  a  taste  of 
something  to  drink  —  till  he  heard  that  song.  His 
spiritual  sense  had  virtually  lain  dormant  those  three 
years  in  the  monotonous  round  of  his  world-cir 
cling  outpost  duty.  In  successive  enlistments  he 
might  indeed  altogether  have  stifled  it,  while  per 
fecting  his  intelligence,  courage,  strength  and  skill 
as  a  soldier :  for  the  only  possibility  —  and  there  is 
only  possibility,  no  certainty  or  even  probability  - 
of  spiritual  uplift  incident  to  the  profession  of  arms, 
is  that  of  developing  a  surpassing,  unselfish  love  of 
the  flag.  This  sentiment  in  its  pure  fulness  of  bloom 
is  of  the  spirit,  and  is  an  exalted  virtue;  but  not  all 
even  of  the  heroes  whose  ashes  the  nations  keep  have 
appropriated  to  their  souls,  untainted  with  selfish  or 
fleshly  impulse,  this  the  very  flowering  recompense 
of  their  travail  and  heroism. 

Hayward  had  enlisted  at  the  bidding  of  the  most 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  107 

admirable  impulses  and  had  made  an  excellent  sol 
dier  ;  hut  the  monotonous  round  of  garrison  duty 
after  the  brief  war  was  ended  had  benumbed  his 
purely  patriotic  motive,  and  left  only  a  great  desire 
for  personal  advancement.  In  the  dull  grind  his  very 
highest  nature  had  become  stagnated ;  and  it  was  with 
the  joy  of  one  first  awakened  to  unforeseen  possibil 
ities  that  he  felt  reawakened  within  him  by  that  one 
song  desires  not  of  the  flesh  but  of  the  spirit  so  long 
stupefied  and  unfed. 

As  he  became  acutely  conscious  of  his  need  in  this 
behalf,  he  was  more  seriously  regretful  than  before 
that  an  acquaintance  with  the  singer  who  had  revivi 
fied  his  finer  sensibilities  might  not  be  had  to  satisfy 
in  a  measure  the  need  which  her  singing  had  re 
created.  Under  the  impulse  of  such  desires  he  set 
about  seeking  associates,  friendships,  wherefrom  he 
might  appropriate  to  himself  his  God-given  share  in 
the  kingdom  of  the  Mind.  In  his  quiet  and  unob 
trusive  search  for  friends  among  his  race  who  would 
be  congenial  and  satisfy  the  craving  of  his  higher  na 
ture  for  companionship,  success  came  with  starving 
sloth.  Most  of  the  negroes  with  whom  he  came  at 
first  in  contact  were  of  an  order  of  intelligence  so 
far  below  his  o\vn  that  they  met  not  in  any  degree 
the  demand  from  within  him,  and  the  few  that  pos 
sessed  the  intelligence  were  so  unbearable  in  manner 
that  he  found  little  pleasure  in  them. 

He  had  held  aloof  from  the  troopers  of  the  loth 
with  the  certain  feeling  that  they  were  below  his  type 
and  below  the  type  of  the  best  negroes  he  knew  must 
exist  somewrhere :  but  he  came  to  doubt  the  correct 
ness  of  his  own  estimate  in  his  search  for  congenial 


108          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

spirits  in  Washington.  Educated  negroes?  Yes, 
there  were  many  that  had  seen  as  much  of  the  schools 
as  he,  and  more.  Men  of  money?  Yes,  scores  of 
negroes  who  could  buy  him  ten  times  over  with  a 
month's  income.  And  yet  it  seemed  that  he  could 
not  happen  upon  any  in  his  limited  and  slowly  grow 
ing  acquaintance  who  did  not  in  some  way  offend 
his  tastes. 


CHAPTER    XII 

WHEN  the  heat  of  summer  came  down  upon  Wash 
ington,  President  Phillips'  wife  and  daughters  fled  to 
the  shades  of  the  family  summer  home,  "  Hill-Top," 
at  Stag  Inlet  on  Lake  Ontario.  There,  in  a  roomy, 
rambling  old  house  set  back  on  the  low  wooded  bluffs 
which  enclose  in  more  than  half-circle  the  peaceful 
little  bay,  he  and  his  wife  and  daughters,  with  a  few 
congenial  but  not  too  closely  situated  neighbours, 
passed  the  hot  days  of  summer,  and  stayed  on  usually 
into  the  red-splashed  autumn,  when  the  little  cove 
put  on  its  most  inviting  dress  and  brewed  its  most 
exhilarating  air. 

It  was  Hayward's  fortune  to  be  carried  to  the  Inlet 
with  the  family  carriage  and  horses  for  the  summer 
outing.  He  was  happy  enough  to  be  quit  of  brick 
walls  and  asphalt  pavements  for  a  time,  and  to  get 
into  God's  out-of-doors,  for  whose  open  air  he  had 
become  so  hungry  in  a  few  short  months.  His  duties 
were  not  very  onerous,  and  he  had  much  time  to  em 
ploy  himself  with  his  own  pleasures.  One  form  which 
this  took  was  in  learning  to  handle  the  various  kinds 
of  diminutive  water-craft  with  which  his  master's 
family  and  their  neighbours  helped  to  while  away 
their  summer  vacations.  Before  the  summer  was 
over  he  was  a  fairly  good  fisherman,  a  safe  skipper 
on  any  small  sail-craft  used  in  the  inlet,  and  a  devoted 

109 


110          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

and  skilful  driver  of  the  gasoline,  naphtha  and  electric 
launches  of  which  the  cottagers  had  quite  a  number. 
He  was  quick  and  adept  at  any  and  everything  that 
came  to  his  hand,  and  so  careful  and  entertaining  of 
the  children  of  the  near-by  families  whom  he  met  and 
amused  when  they  came  down  to  play  by  the  water's 
edge,  that  he  came  to  be  quite  in  demand  as  one  serv 
ant  who  "  knew  how  "  and  could  be  depended  upon 
in  any  circumstances. 

Helen  Phillips  was  still  a  girl,  natural,  ingenuous, 
untouched  by  pride  or  affectation.  She  looked  for 
ward  with  some  zest  of  anticipation  to  the  time  of 
her  debut  two  winters  to  come;  but  was  well  content 
to  have  that  time  approach  without  haste.  She 
evinced  much  interest  in  the  plans  that  her  mother 
and  Elise  made  and  re-made,  discarded  and  revised 
for  the  social  campaign  of  the  next  winter,  and  many 
lively  and  original  suggestions  did  she  make  offhand 
and  unasked.  But  as  for  her  own  personal  plans  she 
gave  them  no  thought  a  day's  time  ahead.  She  was 
quite  willing  to  receive  her  pleasures  in  the  order 
chance  ordained. 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  get  away  from  Washington  and 
back  to  Hill-Top,"  she  wrote  to  her  Cleveland  chum. 
"  It  was  awful  dull  down  there.  Five  whole  days  in 
the  week  I  had  to  spend  trying  to  catch  the  style  dis 
pensed  at  a  Finishing  School  for  Young  Ladies  there, 
where  it  is  possible  to  take  lady-like  sips  and  nibbles 
at  literature  and  music  and  art  and  things  like  that, 
but  where  the  real  purpose  seems  to  be  to  teach  young 
women  to  descend  from  a  carriage  gracefully.  Just 
think!  Another  whole  year  of  finishing  touches  will 
have  to  be  applied  to  me  before  Miss  Eugenia  can 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          111 

in  good  conscience  certify  that  I  may  be  depended 
upon  properly  to  arrange  myself  upon  a  chair  in  case 
it  ever  becomes  necessary  for  me  to  sit  down." 

Helen's  tastes  were  along  lines  widely  different 
from  the  Finishing  School's  curriculum.  She  pre 
ferred  above  all  things  else  a  talk  or  a  walk,  a  ride 
or  a  romp  with  her  father.  She  had  no  brother  to 
share  her  pranks  and  enthusiasms,  her  little  sister 
Katherine  was  much  too  young  to  be  companionable, 
and  her  father  was  her  necessary  and  natural  ally. 
Him  did  she  not  only  love,  but  him  did  she  glorify. 
Tall  and  straight,  seemingly  lacking  in  flesh  but  tough 
as  whip-cord,  with  a  patrician  face,  prematurely  gray 
hair  and  moustache,  Helen  thought  he  was  the  model 
of  all  manly  beauty.  None  in  life  or  in  fiction  was 
to  her  thinking  so  brave  or  strong  or  good  as  he. 
Being  in  her  esteem  strong  in  body,  unerring  in  wis 
dom,  pure  in  purpose,  fearless  in  spirit,  he  touched 
the  periphery  of  her  ideal  of  manhood  at  every  point. 
Her  mother  and  Elise  often  were  amused  at  her  head 
long  championship  of  him  upon  the  slightest  intima 
tion  of  criticism,  and  rightfully  were  astonished  at 
her  information  upon  public  questions  as  they  affected 
or  were  connected  with  his  political  fortunes  or  good 
name.  Helen  devoured  the  newspapers  (a  limited 
number  it  is  true)  with  no  other  purpose,  seemingly, 
than  to  know  what  people  said  of  him.  Of  those 
that  favoured  him  and  his  policies  she  thought  well, 
and  mentally  commended  their  good  taste  and  excel 
lent  sense :  but  those  that  criticized !  Woe  to  them 
had  she  had  power  to  utter  condemnation  i 

One  morning  in  midsummer  Hayward  brought  the 


112          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

saddle-horses  to  the  door  for  the  father  and  daughter 
to  take  a  canter  and  prove  Helen's  new  mount  before 
the  mother  and  Elise  were  up.  They  were  about 
ready  to  be  off  when  a  telegram  was  brought  out  to 
Mr.  Phillips  by  the  operator  who  had  an  office  in  the 
house. 

"  I  was  ordered  not  to  wake  you,  sir,  but  to  give 
it  to  you  at  once  when  you  were  up." 

Mr.  Phillips  read  it  over  slowly.  Then  he  turned 
to  Helen. 

"  Well,  little  girl,  you  must  miss  your  ride  again. 
I'm  sorry,  but  it  can't  be  helped." 

"Oh,  no,  papa!  Let  the  country  go  play  till  we 
come  back.  You  promised  me  this  ride  sure  when 
we  missed  the  last  one." 

"  Can't  do  it,  little  woman.  Take  the  horses  back, 
Hayward,"  he  said,  and  turned  to  follow  the  tele 
graph  man.  But  seeing  the  great  disappointment  in 
Helen's  face,  he  called  to  the  man. 

"  Here,  Hayward.  Get  into  a  proper  coat  and  on 
my  horse  and  see  that  Miss  Helen  has  her  gallop 
round  the  Inlet  and  back  without  damage.  Can  you 
ride?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Hayward. 

"  I  thought  so.  You  seem  to  be  able  to  do  every 
thing  else.  Now  you  are  fixed  up,  old  girl,"  he  said 
as  he  chucked  Helen  under  the  chin.  "  Don't  let  the 
mare  all  the  way  out.  You  don't  know  her  yet,"  — 
and  he  was  gone. 

Most  of  Helen's  pleasure  in  the  ride  was  lost  with 
her  father's  absence,  and  yet  there  was  much  enjoy 
ment  in  it  for  her.  She  felt  the  liberty  to  choose  her 
own  road,  and  decided  to  do  a  little  exploring.  She 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  113 

set  out  at  a  good  canter,  with  Hayward  swinging 
along  a  protective  distance  in  the  rear;  and  with  the 
exercise  her  spirits  rose  and  she  gave  herself  up  to 
the  full  joy  of  it.  She  forgot  her  father's  injunction 
and  sent  the  mare  along  several  stretches  of  road 
with  little  restraint. 

Hayward,  on  Mr.  Phillips'  favourite  saddler,  was 
having  the  time  of  his  life,  and  for  himself  wished 
nothing  better  than  that  his  young  mistress  would 
keep  up  the  pace;  though  he  did  not  altogether  ap 
prove  of  her  speeding  down-hill.  He  did  not  like 
the  way  the  mare  managed  her  feet  on  the  down 
grades.  When  Helen  pulled  up  to  ask  him  where 
a  certain  road  led,  he  spoke,  unconsciously  with  de 
cision,  out  of  his  experience,  but  with  all  deference, 
and  said : 

"  Pardon  me,  Miss  Helen,  but  it  is  a  little  danger 
ous  the  speed  with  which  you  ride  down-hill.  I'm 
afraid  your  mount  is  not  so  sure-footed  as  she  might 
be.  ...  This  road  you  speak  of  leads  out  by  Mr. 
Radwine's  cottage  into  the  Lake  Drive.  It  is  worse 
riding  than  those  you  have  tried." 

Helen  thought  Hayward's  apprehensions  were  crea 
tures  of  his  discomfort  in  keeping  pace  with  her,  and 
she  was  nothing  more  than  amused  at  his  attempts 
to  limit  the  speed  to  his  abilities  under  pretence  of 
care  for  her  safety.  She  thought  she  would  give  him 
one  more  shaking-up  to  tell  her  father  about  —  and 
plunged  off  down  the  Radwine  road,  leaving  him  to 
follow  as  best  he  might. 

Hayward  had  passed  over  that  cross-road  but  a 
few  days  earlier  and  he  knew  its  present  condition. 
Helen  heard  him  call  to  her,  but  her  spirit  of  mischief 


114          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

was  fully  aroused  at  the  thought  of  his  bumping  along 
after  her,  and  she  gave  the  mare  free  rein. 

They  were  going  down  a  longer  and  steeper  hill 
than  any  they  had  passed,  near  the  foot  of  which  the 
summer  rains  had  washed  out  the  roadway.  Hay- 
ward,  knowing  of  this  dangerous  place  ahead,  and 
seeing  that  it  was  impossible  to  stop  the  young  woman 
in  his  front  before  she  reached  it,  sent  Prince  William 
after  the  mare  under  pressure  of  the  spur  and  with 
the  hope  to  come  up  with  her  in  time.  He  arrived 
on  the  very  moment  of  fate.  The  thundering  horse 
tore  alongside  the  flying  mare  just  as  she  reached  the 
washed-out  road.  Either  through  feminine  excita 
bility  at  being  overtaken  or  because  of  the  defective 
foot  action  Hayward  had  noted,  the  mare,  when  she 
struck  the  rough  road,  stumbled  and  went  down.  In 
that  instant  the  open-eyed  Prince  William  cleared  the 
washout  with  a  magnificent  stride,  and  the  ex-caval 
ryman  swept  his  right  arm  about  Helen  and  lifted 
her  out  of  the  saddle. 

Slowly  reining  in  his  horse,  Hayward  brought  him 
to  a  standstill  and  gently  lowered  his  astonished 
young  mistress  to  the  ground.  She  was  almost  too 
overcome  to  stand,  and  walked  unsteadily  a  few  steps 
before  she  recovered  herself.  Hayward  had  thrown 
himself  off  Prince  William  and  was  leading  him  back 
down  the  road  to  where  the  mare  had  fallen.  She 
had  already  picked  herself  up,  minus  a  saddle  and 
plus  a  few  bruises,  and  was  standing  in  the  road  com 
paratively  unhurt  but  shaking  as  with  an  ague. 

Hayward  approached  her  quietly  and  she  came 
eagerly  up  to  him  as  if  to  escape  from  her  fears.  He 
looked  her  over  carefully,  and  rinding  no  serious  dam- 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  115 

age  done,  set  himself  about  brushing  the  dust  from 
her  with  wisps  of  weeds  and  grass.  Helen  came  down 
while  he  worked  with  the  mare,  and  watched  him 
some  minutes  without  speaking.  She  hardly  could 
think  of  anything  civil  to  say.  She  knew  that  she 
had  disobeyed  orders  and  that  he  had  warned  her  — 
and  that  made  her  angry.  The  very  silence  of  the 
man  became  irritating  to  her. 

"When  he  had  done  all  he  could  to  put  the  mare 
in  order  he  picked  up  Helen's  saddle  and  started  to 
put  it  on,  but  stopped  to  ask  whether  he  should  ex 
change  mounts  with  her. 

"  No,"  his  young  mistress  replied.  "  I've  ridden 
her  here  and  I  will  ride  her  home." 

The  negro  put  her  saddle  on  the  mare  while  the  girl 
looked  on.  When  he  came  to  buckle  the  girth  he 
found  that  the  leather  tongue  was  torn  off.  He 
lengthened  the  girth  on  the  other  side  and  proceeded 
to  bore  with  his  pocket-knife  a  newr  hole  in  the  short 
broken  tab.  Helen's  eyes  fell  at  length  on  the  knife. 
She  looked  at  it  uncertainly  a  few  moments,  and  then 
lost  interest  in  everything  else.  Finally  she  could 
keep  quiet  no  longer. 

"Where  did  you  get  that  knife,  Hayward?"  she 
asked  with  something  like  accusation  in  her  voice. 

"  Miss  Helen,  I  got  this  knife  in  —  that  is,  this 
knife  belongs  to  — 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  interrupted  Helen.  "  Let  me 
see  it.  ...  Yes,  it's  the  same.  I  gave  my  father  this 
knife  on  his  birthday  four  years  ago.  I  had  the  carv 
ing  done  at  Vantine's.  How  long  have  you  had  it?" 

"  Miss  Helen,  I  have  had  it  long  before  I  entered 
your  father's  service.  I  — •  " 


116          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

"Yes,  I  know;  but  just  how  long  have  you  had 
it,  Hay  ward?" 

"  Well,  Miss  Helen,  to  be  accurate,  I've  had  it  three 
years  and  —  four  months." 

"  Hayward,  were  you  ever  in  the  army  —  the  cav 
alry  —  the  loth  Cavalry  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Miss  Helen." 

"  You  were  in  the  battle  of  Valencia  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Miss  Helen." 

"  You  took  this  knife  from  an  officer  whose  life 
you  had  saved,  didn't  you?" 

"  Yes,  Miss  Helen." 

"  Papa  says  the  negro  trooper  saved  his  life  and 
stole  his  knife." 

"  But  I  did  not  steal  the  knife,  Miss  Helen  —  I  did 
not  know  I  had  it  till  two  months  after  the  battle, 
when  they  gave  me  back  my  clothes  in  the  hospital. 
There  was  —  " 

"  That  stealing  part  is  one  of  papa's  jokes,  Hay- 
ward.  But  you  didn't  know  it  was  papa,  did  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Miss  Helen.  I  knew  him  when  I  saw  him 
fall." 

"  What  ?  And  you've  never  let  him  know  ?  Why 
have  you  kept  it  secret  ?  " 

Hayward  did  not  answer.     She  continued. 

"  He  would  be  very  grateful.  He  does  not  know 
who  it  was,  for  I've  heard  him  say  so.  All  that  he 
knows  is  that  it  was  a  trooper  of  the  loth." 

She  stopped  and  waited  for  an  answer,  but  he  stood 
in  silent  indecision  as  to  what  he  should  say  to  her. 
If  he  should  now  disclose  himself  the  President  would 
doubtless  weaken  the  force  of  his  obligation  by  giving 
him  in  token  of  his  gratitude  some  appointment  which 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          117 

not  only  would  fall  far  short  of  the  lieutenant's  com 
mission  to  which  he  aspired,  but  also  would  remove 
him  from  the  young  woman  who  in  the  last  minute 
had  become  so  simply  and  earnestly  sympathetic  in 
her  manner.  He  weighed  the  pros  and  cons  quickly. 

"Why  haven't  you  told  him?"  persisted  Helen. 

"  I  have  preferred  not,  Miss  Helen.  In  fact  there 
are  reasons  why  I  cannot  —  must  not  —  now." 

"What  reasons?"  demanded  Helen. 

"  Please,  Miss  Helen,  I  cannot  tell  you  —  nor  him." 

"  You  are  not  ashamed  of  it,  surely?  " 

"  No,  Miss  Helen.  I  would  do  it  again  this  morn 
ing —  willingly  —  at  any  cost  to  myself.  But  do  not 
ask  me  to  tell  of  it." 

Helen  regarded  him  narrowly  for  a  minute  in  si 
lence. 

"  And  you  kept  me  from  —  death  —  also.  Am  I 
not  to  tell  him  of  that  either?  " 

"  Please,  no,  Miss  Helen.  If  I  have  done  you  a 
service  and  you  think  it  worth  reward,  I  ask  that  you 
repay  me  by  telling  no  one  that  I  am  either  your 
father's  rescuer  or  your  own." 

Mystery  always  annoyed  Helen  unbearably,  and  she 
looked  at  Hayward  as  if  uncertain  whether  to  per 
emptorily  demand  his  secret  or  to  inform  him  she 
herself  would  acquaint  her  father  with  the  facts  he 
sought  to  conceal.  Hayward  saw  something  of  her 
purpose  in  her  eyes,  and  pleaded  with  her. 

"  Miss  Helen,  I  beg  you.  My  reasons  are  impera 
tive  —  and  honourable.  When  the  time  comes  that 
I  may,  I  will  gladly  tell  your  father,  but  if  now  you 
would  do  me  the  greatest  favour  you  will  say  nothing 
of  it." 


118          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

While  Hayward  was  speaking  it  occurred  to  Helen 
that  she  willingly  would  have  her  father  remain  in 
ignorance  of  her  disobedience  and  reckless  riding  and 
its  consequent  narrowly  averted  disaster.  This  con 
sideration,  together  with  Hayward's  earnestness  in 
his  mystifying  request,  finally  prevailed  upon  her. 

"  Very  well,  Hayward,  if  you  insist.  You  only 
will  be  the  loser.  It  is  puzzling  to  me.  .  .  .  But  tell 
me  about  your  rescue  of  papa." 

Hayward,  glad  to  buy  her  silence,  gave  her  a  mod 
est  account  of  his  very  creditable  bit  of  heroism,  and 
in  response  to  Helen's  interested  questioning  he  was 
still  recounting  incidents  of  the  battle  and  his  hospital 
experiences  when  they  reached  the  Lake  Drive  and 
quickened  their  pace  into  a  fast  canter  for  home. 
They  arrived  and  alighted  and  Hayward  got  the 
horses  away  to  the  stable  without  any  one's  seeing 
the  dust-splashed  mare. 

Helen  could  hardly  contain  herself  with  her  knowl 
edge,  but  she  was  as  scrupulously  honest  as  she  was 
impulsive,  and  stood  by  her  promise  not  to  divulge 
the  footman's  secret.  She  vainly  tried  to  imagine 
some  satisfactory  explanation  of  his  strange  request, 
but  could  conceive  none  that  seemed  plausible.  She 
finally  came  to  believe  that  he  was  a  heroic  soul  whom 
some  implacable  misfortune  had  denied  the  right  to 
the  fruits  of  his  heroism,  and  in  her  heart  she  pitied 
him. 

Hayward  was  not  certain  just  how  far  his  young 
mistress  credited  him  with  good  and  honest  reasons 
for  wishing  his  identity  to  remain  undisclosed  to  her 
father.  He  feared  that  she  must  think  any  reason 
inadequate.  He  was  very  much  afraid  that  in  all  her 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  119 

interested  inquiries  she  would  discover  that  he  was 
not  using  his  real  name.  If  she  became  possessed  of 
that  knowledge  she  doubtless  would  think  the  circum 
stance  sufficiently  suspicious  to  warrant  her  laying- 
all  the  facts  before  her  father.  This  matter  of  his 
name  perplexed  him  no  little.  He  gladly  would  have 
Helen  acquainted  with  the  facts  relating  to  the  crim 
son  pennant,  and  yet  he  must  guard  against  it.  That 
would  reveal  his  masquerade,  as  she  certainly  would 
remember  the  name  of  the  Harvard  man  who  had 
saved  his  college  from  defeat.  He  heartily  regretted 
the  excess  of  caution  which  had  made  him  place  him 
self  in  this  dilemma. 

In  the  long  and  lazy  summer  days  that  came  after 
that  morning's  ride  Helen  was  given  without  seek 
ing  it  some  little  opportunity  to  question  the  footman 
about  the  ever  interesting  matter  of  her  father's  res 
cue  and  allied  incidents  of  battle  and  campaign.  Her 
father  insisted,  on  a  few  occasions  when  he  could 
not  accompany  her,  on  her  riding  alone,  with  Hay- 
ward  as  a  guard.  In  her  sailing  parties,  also,  in  which 
Hayward  was  usually  skipper  of  sailboat  or  launch, 
she  was  thrown  occasionally  with  him  alone  before 
she  had  picked  up,  or  after  she  had  dropped  off,  her 
guests  at  the  several  landings  around  the  Inlet. 

She  had  a  child's  interest  in  listening  to  the  ex- 
trooper's  reminiscences  of  the  battle  of  Valencia,  the 
Venezuelan  campaign,  and  of  his  world's-end  follow 
ing  of  the  flag.  The  footman,  never  for  a  moment 
lacking  in  deference  or  presuming  upon  the  liberty  of 
speech  allowed  him,  was  an  entertaining  talker.  He 
had  used  his  eyes  and  his  ears  in  his  journeyings 


120    THE  CALL  OF  THE  SOUTH 

through  the  earth,  and  the  lively  imagination  char 
acteristic  of  his  race  and  his  negro  knack  of  mim 
icry,  together  with  his  intelligence  and  his  ability  to 
use  the  English  language  with  precision  and  skill, 
made  him  a  raconteur  of  fascinating-  charm.  Helen 
quite  often  wished  to  acquaint  her  father  and  mother 
and  Elise  with  some  of  the  things  he  recounted  to 
her,  but  the  tales  were  always  so  mixed  in  with  his 
experiences  as  a  soldier  that  she  could  not  re-relate 
them  without  breaking  her  promise  to  respect  his 
secret.  .  .  . 

And  thus  the  summer  days  dragged  slowly  to  an 
end,  with  Helen  and  her  footman  becoming  at  odd 
times  better  acquainted  with  the  thoughts  and  per 
sonal  views  each  of  the  other  on  a  wider  and  ever 
wider  range  of  subjects.  Helen  was  too  unsophisti 
cated  in  her  thought  to  notice  anything  unusual  in  a 
lackey's  being  possessed  of  Hayward's  intelligence 
and  ease  of  manner.  The  ever  present  mystery  of 
his  refusal  to  exploit  his  heroic  deeds  dwarfed  or 
overshadowed  all  other  questions  that  might  have 
arisen  in  her  mind  as  to  anything  out  of  the  ordinary 
in  him.  She  did  believe  that  he  was  suffering  some 
sort  of  martyrdom  in  silence,  and  her  womanly  sym 
pathy  grew  stronger  as  she  knew  more  of  him.  Not 
for  a  moment  was  the  relation  of  mistress  and  man 
lost  sight  of  by  either;  but  the  revelation  of  the  real 
woman  and  man,  each  to  other,  went  steadily  on. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

THE  era  of  good  feeling  seemed  to  have  been  ush 
ered  in  along  with  Mr.  Phillips'  inauguration.  The 
country  was  prosperous  to  a  degree.  Labour  was 
receiving  steady  employment  and  a  fair  wage  and 
uttered  no  complaint.  Capital  was  adding  surplus  to 
per  cent.,  and  was  content.  The  Cuban  skirmish  with 
Spain  and  the  trial-by-battle  with  Germany  had  ce 
mented  again  in  blood  the  sections  divided  by  the 
Great  War  —  so  closely  indeed  that  nobody,  not  even 
Presidents  on  hand-shaking  junkets,  thought  to  men 
tion  it.  Any  sporadic  "  waver  of  the  bloody  shirt  " 
was  considered  an  anachronism  and  laughed  at  as  a 
harmless  idiot.  It  was  true  that  the  negro  question, 
being  present  in  the  flesh  and  incapable  of  banishment, 
was  yet  a  momentous  problem :  but  it  was  considered 
in  cooler  temper  as  being  either  a  national  or  a  local 
question  —  not  sectional  in  any  sense. 

President  Phillips  in  his  first  message  to  Congress, 
as  in  his  inaugural  address,  felicitated  his  countrymen 
upon  the  unity  of  the  American  people  and  the  Amer 
ican  spirit,  and  on  both  occasions  gave  a  new  rhetor 
ical  turn  and  oratorical  flourish  to  the  statement  that 
his  father  was  from  Massachusetts  and  his  mother 
a  South  Carolinian.  In  sections  of  the  South  where 
his  party  was  admittedly  effete  or  undoubtedly  odor 
ous  he  hesitated  not  to  appoint  to  office  men  of  polit- 

121 


122          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

ical  faith  radically  differing  from  his  own  —  and  all 
good  citizens  applauded.  Partisanry  was  settling  it 
self  down  for  a  good  long  sleep,  and  strife  had  ceased. 
The  lion  and  the  lamb  were  lain  down  together,  and 
there  was  none  that  made  afraid  in  all  the  holy  moun 
tain  of  American  good-will  and  fair  prospect. 

Into  this  sectionally  serene  and  peaceful  situation, 
which  Mr.  Phillips  deemed  largely  the  result  of  his 
personal  effort  as  a  non-sectional  American  execu 
tive,  he  deliberately  or  impulsively  pitched  an  issue 
which  set  one-third  of  his  admiring  countrymen  by 
the  ears. 

The  good  commonwealth  of  Mississippi  was  in  a 
state  of  upheaval.  A  peaceable  revolution  was  being 
attempted  there  which  would  have  changed  the  essen 
tial  nature  and  purpose  of  the  State  government.  In 
cited  by  the  wordy  eloquence  of  a  provincial  governor, 
with  a  few  scraps  of  statistics  gone  mad,  good  men, 
honest  men,  men  of  intelligence  \vere  seriously  con 
sidering  the  proposition  to  so  amend  the  State  con 
stitution  as  to  put  upon  the  negro  in  his  ignorance 
and  poverty  the  whole  burden  of  his  own  education  - 
by  a  division  of  the  school  fund  between  the  races 
in  proportion  to  the  taxes  each  paid  to  the  State. 

This  reactionary  and  truly  astonishing  proposition 
of  Governor  Wordyfellow  was  commonly  known  as 
the  Wordyfellow  Idea.  It  was  giving  great  concern 
to  the  sober  statesmanship  of  the  entire  nation,  North 
and  South  —  indeed  greater  concern  to  the  thought 
ful  men  of  the  South  who  realized  its  momentous 
import,  its  far-reaching  effect  upon  Southern  white 
people,  than  to  the  thoughtful  outsiders  who  viewed 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          123 

it  philosophically  as  having  a  speculative  interest  but 
no  actual  part  in  its  settlement  or  effects. 

The  proposition  to  so  divide  the  school  funds  in 
deed  found  its  most  violent  and  active  opposition, 
as  it  found  its  strongest  advocates,  not  only  among 
the  men  of  the  South  but  even  in  the  very  State  of 
Mississippi  itself.  The  fact  soon  developed  that  this 
was  to  be  the  greatest  political  battle  that  was  to  be 
fought  concerning  the  negro.  All  prior  conflicts  had 
been  white  man  against  negro.  This  was  white  man 
against  white  man,  with  the  negro  as  an  interested 
onlooker. 

The  lines  were  drawn  roughly  with  the  church,  the 
schools  and  the  independent  press  allied  against  the 
politicians,  the  political  press  and  the  less  intelligent 
citizenship.  Notable  individual  exceptions  there  were 
to  this  alignment  —  which  all  men  remember  —  but 
the  line  of  cleavage,  taking  it  by  and  large,  was  as 
stated.  Though  the  matter  of  an  actual  constitutional 
revision  was  presented  as  yet  only  to  the  people  of 
Mississippi,  the  battle  was  being  waged  in  serious 
purpose  to  a  no  less  actual  finish  in  every  State  from 
the  Potomac  to  the  Rio  Grande. 

It  was  into  this  situation,  fraught  with  dire  pos 
sibilities  of  course,  but  full  of  promise  to  the  negro's 
friends,  that  the  new  President  projected  his  impul 
sive  and  forceful  personality.  Anxious  as  always  to 
be  in  the  fight  and  leader  in  the  fight,  he  set  about  to 
devise  some  plan  for  helping  along  the  black  man's 
cause.  That  he  might  do  this  more  intelligently  he 
conferred  often  with  his  most  trusted  advisers. 

It  was  on  the  occasion  of  the  memorable  Home- 


124          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

Coming  Week  at  Cleveland  in  191 —  that  he  held  the 
famous  conference  which  gave  that  great  civic  cele 
bration  a  fixed  place  in  history.  He  stood  loyally  by 
his  home  city  in  its  effort  to  enjoy  and  advertise  it 
self,  for  he  betook  himself  and  family  and  several 
friends,  including  two  members  of  his  cabinet,  away 
from  busiest  Washington  for  two  days,  and  opened 
up  his  Cleveland  home  at  great  expense  for  that  brief 
stay. 

Doctor  Woods,  a  negro  of  national  reputation,  also 
claimed  Cleveland  as  his  birthplace,  and  he  had  jour 
neyed  thither  from  afar  to  swell  the  throng  of  loyal 
sons  of  the  city,  and  had  brought  with  him  Doctor 
Martin,  now  a  bishop  of  the  A.  M.  E.  Zion  Church, 
to  add  dignity  and  strength  to  the  negro  end  of  the 
programme.  Meeting  officially  with  these  two  dig 
nitaries  of  colour  suggested  to  Mr.  Phillips  a  discus 
sion  of  the  Wordyfellow  disturbance,  and  he  called 
an  impromptu  consultation. 

In  between  the  review  of  a  morning  parade  and 
luncheon,  therefore,  on  the  second  day  of  his  stay, 
he  sandwiched  this  hurried  conference.  At  it,  beside 
Martin  and  Woods,  were  Secretary  of  the  Navy  Mac 
kenzie,  whose  wisdom  seemed  to  cover  all  politics  and 
statecraft,  and  the  Secretary  of  Agriculture,  Baxter 
—  himself  a  Mississippian,  but  thoroughly  opposed 
to  the  Mississippi  governor's  policy. 

The  conference,  which  was  held  at  Mr.  Phillips' 
home,  rejoiced  his  heart.  He  was  pleased  at  the 
favourable  reports  which  Bishop  Martin  and  Doctor 
Woods  gave  of  the  situation  in  the  several  Southern 
States.  He  accepted  with  approval  the  suggestions 
of  the  sapient  Mackenzie;  and  when  he  saw  with 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          125 

what  earnestness  and  vigour  and  assured  personal 
knowledge  of  the  situation  Baxter  was  putting  his 
energies  into  the  fight  and  predicting  victory  even  in 
Mississippi,  his  enthusiasm  knew  no  bounds.  The 
conference  was  of  such  interest  that  luncheon  was 
announced  before  a  definite  plan  of  action  was 
threshed  out. 

"  By  George,  I'm  hungry  as  a  wolf !  "  exclaimed 
Mr.  Phillips.  "  Come  along  to  the  dining-room,  gen 
tlemen,  and  we'll  wind  this  thing  up  while  we  replen 
ish  our  stores." 

While  this  invitation  was  quite  unexpected  by  the 
bishop  and  Doctor  Woods,  it  completely  confounded 
Secretary  Baxter  who  was  right  in  the  middle  of  a 
little  speech  when  the  interruption  and  invitation 
came.  He  looked  confused  for  a  moment,  and  began 
mumbling  some  excuse  as  Mr.  Phillips  held  open  the 
door  and  his  other  guests  passed  out  into  the  hall. 

"  Oh,  you  don't  have  to  go,"  said  Mr.  Phillips. 
"  Come  on  and  finish  up  your  idea.  I  know  you  have 
no  other  engagement,  for  you  were  to  lunch  with 
me  to-day  to  discuss  that  Williams  matter." 

The  Secretary  of  Agriculture  saw  he  was  caught, 
and  his  manner  changed  in  a  moment  as  he  decided 
to  meet  the  issue  squarely. 

"  You  will  please  excuse  me,  Mr.  President,"  he 
said  formally  and  finally. 

"  Why,  Baxter,  surely  I  do  not  have  to  explain  to 
you  that- 

''  You  certainly  do  not,  Mr.  President,"  interrupted 
the  Secretary.  "  Good  morning,  gentlemen,"  —  and 
he  bowed  himself  out. 

President  Phillips  turned  in  ill-restrained  anger  and 


126          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

followed  his  guests  to  the  dining-room.  They  found 
Mrs.  Phillips  and  Helen  awaiting  them.  With  these 
Mr.  Mackenzie  shook  hands,  and  to  them  the  Presi 
dent  introduced  Doctor  Woods.  The  bishop  was 
already  acquainted,  and  spoke  of  the  dinner  at  the 
Saratoga  restaurant. 

Mrs.  Phillips  had  long  been  accustomed  to  the  sur 
prises  her  husband  made  for  her,  and  had  too  good 
control  of  her  faculties  to  show  any  annoyance  on 
beholding  her  unexpected  and  unwelcome  guests. 

Any  possible  shade  of  restraint  in  her  manner 
would  not  have  been  noticed,  however,  in  the  general 
feeling  of  constraint  which  Mr.  Baxter's  abrupt  de 
parture  had  left  on  Mr.  Phillips  and  his  other  guests. 
The  host  set  himself  to  the  task  of  throwing  off  this 
feeling  by  plunging  volubly  into  a  resume  of  the  dis 
cussion  they  had  been  having.  His  vigour  and  enthu 
siasm  were  such  that  by  their  very  physical  force  he 
was  bringing  a  wholesome  situation  to  pass,  when 
Elise  came  humming  down  the  hall  with  Lola  DeVale, 
stopped  short  in  the  doorway  —  and  turned  quickly 
back. 

While  there  was  nothing  unusual  or  pointed  in 
Elise's  manoeuvre  her  father  felt  and  resented  her 
protest.  He  talked  away  for  a  few  minutes  in  nerv 
ous  hope  that  his  supposition  was  wrong  and  that  she 
would  come  and  bring  Lola  in  to  lunch.  When  she 
did  not  his  choler  rose  at  this  open  mutiny  in  his  own 
household,  and  he  awkwardly  tossed  the  ball  of  con 
versation  to  Mackenzie  and  busied  himself  keeping 
his  indignation  within  bounds. 

From  this  point  the  meal  progressed  uncertainly. 
In  the  midst  of  the  embarrassment  of  it  all  there  was 


ELISE  .  .  .  STOPPED  SHORT  IN  THE  DOORWAY  —  AND 
TURNED  QUICKLY  HACK.." 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          127 

brought  to  the  President  a  note,  upon  opening  which 
he  read : 

"  SIR  :  —  I  have  the  honour  to  present  my  resig 
nation  as  Secretary  of  Agriculture,  to  take  effect  at 
the  earliest  moment  you  may  be  able  to  relieve  me  of 
the  duties  of  the  office. 

"  With  assurances  of  my  highest  consideration  and 
sincerest  good  wishes  for  yourself  and  the  success 
of  your  administration,  I  am 

"  Your  obedient  servant, 

"  W.  E.  BAXTER." 

At  the  bottom  of  the  page  there  was  added : 

"  P.  S.  —  I  am  willing  to  assign  any  plausible  rea 
son  for  this  resignation  that  you  may  desire,  or  that 
may  suggest  itself  to  you  as  likely  to  relieve  you  of 
any  embarrassment  as  a  result  of  it.  wr.  E.  B." 

Mr.  Phillips  punctuated  his  first  hasty  perusal  of 
the  note  with  a  snort  of  contempt,  and  checked  an 
outburst  of  sarcastic,  wrathful  comment  to  read  it 
over  a  second  time.  Fortunately  at  this  moment 
Bishop  Martin  and  Doctor  Woods  rose  and  apolo 
gized  for  having  to  withdraw  in  order  to  catch  a 
train. 

Their  host  was  loath  to  have  them  go,  and  ex 
pressed  regret  that  they  had  not  been  able  to  arrive 
at  some  definite  plan  of  campaign.  He  asked  that 
they  inform  him  if  they  should  come  to  Washington, 
so  that  he  might  discuss  the  subject  further  with 
them.  Expressing  their  great  pleasure  that  the  chief 


128          THE    CALL   OF    THE    SOUTH 

executive  took  such  a  lively  and  intelligent  interest  in 
the  weal  and  progress  of  their  race,  the  two  negro 
worthies  withdrew,  Mrs.  Phillips  dismissing  them 
with  a  formal  bow  and  smile  and  Helen,  following 
her  father,  giving  them  a  cordial  hand-shake  as  they 
retired. 

When  they  had  gone  Mr.  Phillips  thrust  the  letter 
of  resignation  at  Mackenzie,  and  exploded : 

"Mac,  just  read  that!  The  provincial,  patroni 
zing,  postscript-writing  popinjay!  Could  you  have 
imagined  the  impudence  of  it!  Does  not  wish  me  to 
be  embarrassed  as  a  result  of  his  quitting  us  —  the 
conceited  ass!  I  wonder  if  he  thinks  I  care  a  rap,  or 
that  the  people  care,  for  his  cheap  little  melodramatics. 
I  might  have  known  that  it  was  too  much  to  have 
expected  a  sensible  secretary  from  that  cursed  negro- 
phobia  State!  But  he  was  so  strongly  pressed  for  a 
cabinet  appointment,  and  really  did  appear  to  be  such 
a  strong  fellow.  I  might  have  guessed  his  apparent 
excellences  were  too  good  to  be  true!  Oh,  but  the 
patronizing  insolence  of  his  offer  to  hush  it  up  for  us ! 
I  swear  it's  unbearable.  Damn  the  superior  high-and- 
mighty  airs  these  Southerners  assume!  My  mother 
was  a  South  Carolinian,  but  I  can't  feel  a  sympa 
thetic  tremor  in  my  blood  for  any  such  damnable 
bigotry.  I'll  give  Mr.  Baxter  and  all  his  hide-bound, 
moss-backed,  supercilious  gang  to  know  that  this  is 
one  administration  that  proposes  to  make  a  demo 
cratic  government  a  reality  in  this  democratic  coun 
try.  A  man  shall  be  measured  by  the  essential  qual 
ities  of  manhood  he  possesses,  and  dealt  with  accord 
ingly,  whatever  his  position,  pull,  size,  sentiments, 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          129 

claims  or  colour!     What  do  you  think  of  that  infer 
nal  note?" 

"  He  does  show  great  consideration  for  us  —  dis 
tinguished  consideration,  I  may  say.  He  will  not 
tell  it  on  us,"  sarcastically  commented  Mackenzie. 

"  The  devil  take  his  distinguished  consideration !  " 
snapped  Mr.  Phillips.  "  I'll  accept  his  little  resigna 
tion  before  he  can  wink,  and  give  the  papers  a  full 
statement  of  the  circumstances  just  as  they  occurred. 
I'll  show  the  upstart  what  a  small  potato  he  is  — 
damn  his  impudence!  And  then  just  to  think,  Mac, 
of  the  inexpressible  insult  in  refusing  to  lunch  with 
persons  that  I  deem  worthy  to  dine  with  my  wife  and 
daughters!  It  really  makes  it  almost  too  damnably 
personal  to  be  overlooked.  He  must  understand  that 
respectability,  presentability,  acceptability,  in  my 
home  is  a  matter  that  is  as  sacred  to  me  as  such 
things  are  to  him  with  all  his  Bourbon  notions !  — 
but  thank  God  he  may  understand  also  that  such  ac 
ceptability  is  based  on  true  merit,  and  that  a  man's 
colour  has  absolutely  nothing  to  do  with  it.  ... 
Come  along  with  me  to  the  library  and  we  will  accept 
this  little  resignation  before  it  gets  cold,  and  have  it 
at  his  hotel  before  he  gets  cold !  " 


CHAPTER    XIV 

MRS.  PHILLIPS,  ill  at  ease  during  the  luncheon, 
had  taken  the  opportunity  to  retire  offered  by  the 
departure  of  the  negro  guests,  and  had  taken  Helen 
with  her;  but  that  young  lady,  feeling  the  electric 
condition  of  the  atmosphere  and  full  of  lively  curi 
osity,  had  returned  to  hover  around  the  dining-room 
door  and  learn  what  all  the  row  was  about.  She 
heard  her  father's  outburst  with  great  interest  —  be 
ing  no  little  shocked  at  his  sulphurous  words,  but  no 
less  deeply  concerned  at  the  suggestion  of  embarrass 
ment  to  him  politically,  and  forcibly  and  enthusias 
tically  impressed  with  his  fine  scorn  of  subterfuge  and 
manly  decision  to  fight  out  his  battles  in  the  open. 

When  President  Phillips  came  in  to  dinner  and 
asked  for  his  daughters,  their  mother  told  him  Helen 
was  in  her  room  and  Elise  had  gone  driving  with  Lola. 

"  I  did  not  like  Elise's  conduct  at  lunch.  It  was 
too  pointed,  entirely  too  pointed.  I  shall  talk  to  the 
young  lady  very  plainly." 

"  Now,  Hayne,  don't  worry  the  child  with  this 
affair.  It  is  bad  enough  as  it  is.  I  hope  —  ' 

"  Bad  enough  as  it  is !  Why,  one  would  think  you 
wished  to  resign  also.  Were  you  insulted,  too?" 

"  Not  insulted,  Hayne ;  but  ever  since  you  sent 
me  to  the  pinelands  of  North  Carolina  that  winter  for 
Elise's  throat  I  have  not  been  able  to  think  of  a  negro 

130 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          131 

as  I  did  before  —  and  Elise  feels  the  same  way,  I 
know.  It  is  so  plain  down  there :  the  negroes  are 
so  many  and  so  —  different.  I  can't  receive  them 
with  any  sort  of  pleasure.  Just  think  of  what  the 
Southern  papers  will  have  to  say.  The  awful  things 
they  said  about  your  negro  quartette  were  almost  un 
bearable,  and  I  know  that  was  mild  to  what  this  will 
be.  I  do  wish  you  had  not  brought  them  in  to  lunch, 
Hayne." 

"  Why,  May,  you  are  surely  not  going  over  against 
me  with  those  supercilious  Southern  fanatics?" 

"  Hayne !  That  is  almost  insulting.  You  know  that 
I  am  for  you  against  the  world,  whatever  comes.  No 
one,  not  even  Elise  or  Helen,  has  ever  heard  me  offer 
the  least  criticism  of  anything  you  have  done  —  and 
no  one  ever  will,  my  dearest  "  —  she  spoke  simply  and 
earnestly  as  she  held  her  hands  up  toward  him  in  a 
gesture  eloquent  of  abiding  love  — "  but  I  cannot 
have  pleasure  in  receiving  negroes.  I  have  seen  the 
negro  as  he  really  is,  and  I  cannot  feel  that  some 
soap  and  water  and  a  silk  hat  make  a  — 

"  Stop,  May,  right  there "  —  Mr.  Phillips'  arms 
went  about  his  wife  in  tenderness  as  he  placed  a  hand 
upon  her  lips.  fi  Listen  to  me.  You  dear  women 
are  creatures  of  impulse  and  sentiment  —  and  thank 
Heaven  for  that,  too:  for  when  the  time  ever  comes 
that  you  shall  judge  men  from  your  heads  instead  of 
your  hearts,  woe  to  us!"  —  and  he  kissed  her  hair 
in  reverent  gentleness  —  "  but  — 

"Well,  this  is  an  idyllic  scene!"  exclaimed  Elise, 
coming  into  the  room  with  Helen.  "  It  is  better  than 
a  play.  Daddy  dear,  you  do  it  beautifully.  You 
should  have  gone  on  the  stage." 


132          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

Mr.  Phillips'  state  of  mind,  his  bottled-up  vexa 
tion  because  of  Elise's  behaviour  at  luncheon,  his 
impatience  at  the  interruption  of  his  conversation 
with  his  wife  at  the  point  where  she  seemed  to  have 
made  out  her  case  against  him  and  before  he  had 
opportunity  to  demolish  her  sentiment  with  masculine 
logic,  added  to  Elise's  lightness  of  manner  and  speech, 
which  nettled  him  in  his  serious  concern  over  Baxter's 
resignation,  were,  all  together,  too  much  for  mod 
eration. 

"  Now  look  here,  young  lady,"  he  growled  out 
ungraciously,  "  you  have  presumed  entirely  too  much 
upon  your  privileges  to-day.  When  did  you  become 
too  good  to  dine  with  people  your  mother  and  sister 
were  entertaining?  " 

"  Why,  papa !  "  the  girl  exclaimed  in  amazement  at 
the  roughness  of  his  manner ;  —  but  the  sternness  of 
his  face  did  not  relax,  and  she  stumbled  along  seeking 
some  excuse.  "  Lola  and  I  did  not  want  any  lunch, 
and  all  those  men  —  " 

"  Stop !  Don't  be  a  dodger !  You  know  very  well, 
miss,  that  you  declined  to  lunch  because  Bishop  Mar 
tin  and  Doctor  Woods  were  there.  Now  you  must 
understand  that  I  am  as  regardful  of  your  honour 
as  you  are,  that  my  life  is  at  your  service  to  protect 
it  against  the  slightest  affront,  but  that  I  will  not  be 
sponsor  for  any  silliness,  and  will  certainly  not  over 
look  or  permit  any  high-flown  impertinence  that  af 
fronts  me  in  the  presence  of  guests  of  my  choosing. 
What  do  you  suppose  Mr.  Mackenzie  thinks  of  your 
high-and-mighty  rebuke  to  him  for  sitting  at  my  table 
in  that  company?  He  must  feel  very  properly  sub 
dued,  I  suppose  you  think.  And  the  bishop  and  Doc- 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH         133 

tor  Woods  —  they  are  doubtless  overcome  with  hu 
miliation  because  of  your  refusal  to  meet  them." 

He  dropped  his  overbearing  manner  as  Elise's  face 
turned  from  crimson  to  white  and  her  lips  began  to 
tremble  —  for  he  was  a  tender-hearted  and  gallant 
gentleman. 

"  Now  let  me  say  once  for  all,  my  daughter,  that 
I  must  be  the  judge  of  who  is  a  proper  person  to  be 
entertained  in  this  household,  and  I  want  no  more 
such  exhibitions  of  filial  disrespect  as  you  made  to 
day.  I  think  no  explanation  is  due :  but  I  will  tell 
you  that  one  of  the  gentlemen  who  lunched  with  us 
to-day  is  a  bishop  in  his  church  and  a  leader  of  ten 
million  citizens  of  this  country,  while  Doctor  Woods 
is  a  graduate  of  Harvard  and  Heidelberg,  a  man 
whose  learning  is  surpassed  by  that  of  very  few  men 
in  America,  and  is  the  very  best  type  of  his  own  race 
and  a  creditable  product  of  any  race.  Both  these  gen 
tlemen  are  entirely  worthy  of  your  highest  respect." 

"  But,  papa,  they  are  negroes !  "  said  Elise,  embold 
ened  to  attempt  a  defence  when  her  father  dropped 
his  browbeating  tone  and  assumed  to  address  her  rea 
son. 

"  Negroes  ?  —  and  what  of  that  ?  It  is  not  the  first 
time  a  negro  has  lunched  with  a  President  of  the 
United  States.  Calm  your  misgivings  by  remember 
ing  that  it  is  assuredly  safe,  either  socially  or  polit 
ically,  to  follow  any  precedent  set  by  Mr.  Roosevelt. 
But  further,  my  daughter,  what  does  the  term  '  ne 
gro  '  impute  to  these  men  more  than  a  colour  of  skin? 
Nothing.  My  child,  '  the  man's  the  thing,'  —  his 
colour  is  absolutely  nothing.  A  negro  must  be  judged 
individually,  by  his  own  character  and  ability  —  you 


134          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

judge  white  men  so.  He  is  not  responsible  for  the 
whole  race,  but  for  himself,  and  must  stand  or  fall 
upon  his  individual  merit  and  not  upon  his  colour 
or  caste.  It  is  the  glory  of  our  America  that  it  has 
but  one  order  of  nobility  —  a  man;  and  when  that 
order  is  abolished  or  others  established  our  democratic 
institutions  will  be  a  hollow  pretence  and  our  deca 
dence  have  set  in.  Heaven  defend  a  daughter  of  mine 
should  be  either  dazzled  by  a  tinselled  rank  or  class 
pretension,  or  fail  to  appreciate  simple,  genuine,  per 
sonal  excellence." 

Elise  was  glad  enough  her  father  had  calmed  down 
and  branched  off  into  generalities.  She  was  dis 
creetly,  not  impudently,  silent,  and  took  the  first  op 
portunity  to  retire. 

On  that  afternoon  Elise  had  met  Evans  Rutledge 
and  had  really  found  pleasure  in  his  friendliness. 
She  speculated  whether  his  manner  would  have  been 
quite  so  cordial  if  he  had  known  of  the  luncheon 
then  but  two  hours  past.  She  had  seen  no  little  of 
him  in  a  casual  way  since  living  in  Washington,  for 
he  was  an  acceptable  visitor  at  most  of  the  desirable 
places.  With  repeated  meetings  they  had  come  to 
an  unspoken  truce,  Elise  being  impelled  to  friendly 
simplicity  by  her  very  nature,  and  Rutledge  by  the 
love  which  would  not  permit  him  to  deny  himself  any 
opportunity  to  be  near  her  despite  some  rebellious 
notions  of  self-respect. 

Rutledge's  vacillation  of  mind  concerning  EHse 
was  evidenced  by  his  presence  in  Cleveland.  It  com 
ported  very  wrell  with  his  former  status  as  a  free 
lance  correspondent  that  in  search  of  "  copy "  he 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          135 

should  have  followed  the  President  out  to  Ohio,  but 
he  confessed  to  himself  that  it  was  somewhat  below 
the  dignity  of  his  present  position  and  standing  as  an 
editorial  writer  that  he  should  have  asked  for  the 
assignment  as  news  representative  allotted  to  his  pa 
per  on  the  Presidential  special.  He  called  himself  a 
fool,  and  —  thought  of  many  situations  that  might 
happen  to  evolve  themselves  on  the  train.  .  .  .  They 
didn't  evolve. 

Only  one  paltry  three  minutes'  talk  with  Elise  did 
he  win  for  all  his  journeying.  He  had  stood  by  her 
carriage  that  afternoon  as  she  waited  for  Lola  De- 
Vale  in  front  of  Vantine's,  and  they  had  talked  in  the 
unaffected  manner  of  the  first  days  of  their  acquaint 
ance  until  Lola  came  out  and  invited  him  to  join  them 
on  an  evening  at  the  end  of  the  week  at  an  informal 
gathering  of  young  people  at  her  home  in  Washing 
ton.  He  had  accepted  \vith  what  he  afterward 
thought  was  childish  and  compromising  eagerness. 

"  I  like  that  Mr.  Rutledge  so  much.  I  invited  him 
for  you,  Elise,"  Lola  said  as  they  drove  homeward. 

"  Why  for  me?  "  asked  Elise. 

"  Perhaps  I  should  say  because  of  you.  Can't  you 
see  the  reason  in  his  eyes  every  time  he  looks  at  you? 
I  can." 

"  You  are  mistaken  there,  my  dear.  I  happen  to 
know  that  Mr.  Rutledge  loves,  or  once  loved,  a  young 
woman  who  has  greatly  disappointed  him." 

"How?" 

"  He  has  learned  that  her  family  —  and  perhaps 
she  —  is  impossible." 

"  How  did  you  know  of  his  love  for  the  girl?  " 

"  He  told  me  himself,"  Elise  answered  with  a  non- 


136          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

chalant  air  that  proved  her  an  actress  of  the  finest 
art. 

"  He  did !  You  were  playing  with  fire,  Elise.  The 
sympathetic  '  other  girl  '  is  always  in  a  dangerous 
role.  Did  he  tell  you  of  his  disappointment  also?" 

"  Oh,  no.     But  that  was  —  and  is  —  evident." 

"But  the  girl?  Was  she  really  —  nice  —  better 
than  her  people?  " 

"  Yes.  No  —  yes  —  that  is,  nice.  Of  course  you 
know  Mr.  Rutledge  would  not  love  a  woman  who  was 
not  —  nice." 

"Oh,  certainly;  but  if  he  was  really  disappointed 
in  her,  all  the  more  reason  he  might  find  a  solace  in 
your  smiles." 

"  It  was  her  family  rather  than  herself,  I  think. 
He  is  uncertain  about  her  —  is  afraid  to  love  her." 

"  He  does  seem  to  have  an  uncertain  look  at  times 
that  has  puzzled  me.  I  think  you  are  responsible  for 
some  of  his  uncertainty,  however;  or  perhaps  the 
other  girl  makes  him  uncertain  about  you.  If  it  were 
not  for  her  you  would  have  to  look  to  your  defences. 
.  .  .  He  must  have  loved  her  very  much  or  he  could 
not  stand  the  temptation  you  are  to  him.  .  .  .  I'm 
glad  you've  solved  the  riddle,  but  very  sorry  you  told 
me.  I  have  liked  Mr.  Rutledge;  but  I  despise  any 
man  who  would  not  brush  aside  all  obstacles  to  marry 
the  woman  he  loves  and  who  loves  him.  Don't  you?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Elise  uncertainly,  "  but,  really,  it  was 
- —  it  may  have  been  —  because  she  did  not  love  him. 
I  do  not  think  he  lacks  courage  —  exactly.  He  sim 
ply  would  not  —  pursue  —  the  young  woman  because 
her  father's  —  because  the  —  the  obstacle  was  - 
seemed  —  insurmountable,  —  but  really  I  must  not 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          137 

be  violating  confidences.  There  is  no  reason  why 
you  should  not  at  least  respect  him,  Lola.  His  course 
is  not  without  some  justification,  for  the  objection, 
from  his  point  of  view,  is  —  vital." 

"  But  what  if  the  girl  loves  him?  Does  she  love 
him?" 

"  Really,  Lola,  he  —  he  did  not  inform  me  — 
whether  she  does  or  not.  He  has  not  made  the  slight 
est  reference  to  the  subject,  nor  spoken  the  smallest 
of  confidences  to  me  since  that  summer  on  the  St. 
Lawrence.  ...  I  think  he  regrets  ever  having  told 
me  anything  about  his  —  heart's  affairs.  I  suppose 
I  should  not  repeat  them  —  they  were  spoken  under 
peculiar  circumstances." 

"  There  is  nothing  peculiar,  my  dear.  It  is  easy 
to  see  why  a  man  who  is  not  free  to  make  love  to 
you  will  choose  the  next  best  thing  and  talk  of  love 
with  you.  .  .  .  You  would  better  be  careful  of  Mr. 
Rutledge,  however,  for  I  fear  his  loyalty  to  that  first 
love  totters  on  its  throne  every  time  he  looks  into  your 
gray  eyes.  You  must  not  shatter  his  faith  in  his  own 
faithfulness." 


CHAPTER    XV 

THE  second  morning's  papers  were  aflame  with  the 
news  of  it!  President  Phillips,  true  to  his  outspoken 
character,  himself  had  called  in  the  Associated  Press 
representative  immediately  on  his  return  to  Washing 
ton  and  dictated  a  concise  statement  of  all  the  circum 
stances  leading  to  Mr.  Baxter's  resignation.  The 
Secretary's  house  was  besieged  by  reporters,  but  all 
were  referred  to  the  White  House  for  information. 
The  daily  newspapers  featured  the  item  in  every  con 
ceivable  style  of  display  head-lines,  and  the  affair  was 
a  nine-day  sensation  in  Washington  and  a  reverbera 
ting  tempest  throughout  the  South. 

Evans  Rutledge  by  the  force  of  his  genius,  his  wide 
knowledge  of  men  and  affairs  and  the  accuracy  of 
his  political  information  had  gone  rapidly  toward  the 
front  rank  in  his  profession.  He  was  now  the  leading 
editorial  writer  on  the  Washington*  Mail,  an  anti- 
administration  organ. 

Of  that  paper  Elise  sought  the  first  issue  with  sur 
reptitious  eagerness.  She  picked  it  up  fully  expect 
ing  to  read  quite  the  most  scathing  philippic  she  had 
ever  seen  in  print.  She  was  surprised  to  find  that  the 
former  correspondent  had  put  off  his  extravagances 
for  a  more  judicial  editorial  manner.  She  recognized 
his  work  by  several  phrases  that  had  been  in  the  Chi 
cago  American  article. 

138 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  139 

The  editorial  was  severe,  but  dignified  and  fairly 
respectful.  Rutledge  commended  Secretary  Baxter 
for  his  prompt  and  emphatic  refusal  to  lunch  with 
a  negro  even  though  at  the  table  of  a  President  of 
the  United  States  and  at  the  President's  personal  in 
vitation  or  "  command."  He  said  the  fact  that  Mr. 
Phillips  had  intended  no  insult  made  the  insult  no  less 
real ;  and  that  Baxter  had  done  the  only  possible  thing 
-  the  duel  being  no  longer  in  vogue  —  declined  and 
resigned. 

He  went  on  to  say  that  there  was  an  irreconcilable 
difference  between  the  Northern  and  the  Southern 
ideas  of  the  social  equality  of  the  races;  that  the 
Southern  man's  idea  was  bred  in  the  bone,  and  no 
amount  of  argument  or  abuse  or  lofty  advice  from 
the  Northern  press,  or  boyish  impulsiveness  in  the 
President's  chair,  could  change  that  idea  one  iota ; 
that  while  their  fears  sometimes  might  be  lulled  to 
sleep,  might  be  forgotten  like  other  ills  in  the  interest 
or  excitement  of  other  concerns,  the  black  peril  was 
their  great  Terror  in  both  their  waking  and  sleeping 
hours,  and  even  when  asleep  they  slept  upon  their 
arms. 

Elise  read  that  in  face  of  this  Terror  all  other 
questions  were  insignificant,  and  all  arguments,  preju 
dices,  passions,  loves  and  hates  (she  put  her  finger 
tip  on  the  words)  among  Southern  gentlemen  melted 
away  or  were  fused  into  a  mighty  and  unalterable 
sentiment  to  go  down  to  death  rather  than  to  permit 
social  intermingling  with  the  negro  race. 

The  editorial  concluded  that  the  Southern  feeling  on 
this  subject  was  ineradicable,  and  was  so  deep-seated 
and  universal  that  it  became  a  great  Fact  which  any 


140          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

man  of  fair  discretion  and  sensible  purpose  would  have 
recognized  and  reckoned  with ;  that  no  President  with 
an  abiding  sense  of  the  proprieties  would  have  pro 
posed  the  luncheon  to  Baxter,  and  no  gentleman  of 
the  South  would  have  hesitated  for  a  moment  in  de 
clining  the  insulting  invitation.  The  subject  was  dis 
missed  with  the  prediction  that  the  cause  of  the  negro 
immediate  and  remote  would  be  damaged  immeasur 
ably  by  this  act  of  the  impulsive  gentleman  in  the 
White  House  who  would  take  the  Southern  situation 
by  the  seat  of  the  trousers  as  though  it  were  a  self- 
willed  small  boy  pouting  in  a  cellar  and  yank  it  in 
continently  up  the  Phillips  stairs  of  progress. 

There  was  no  other  subject  discussed  in  hotel  lob 
bies,  committee-rooms  or  wherever  else  two  or  more 
men  were  gathered  together  on  the  day  after  the 
facts  were  known.  In  the  afternoon  in  one  of  the 
committee-rooms  of  the  Senate,  Senators  Ruffin  and 
Killam,  Representatives  Smith  and  Calhoun  of  Kil- 
lam's  State,  and  Representative  Hazard  of  a  New 
York  City  district,  were  ventilating  their  views  on  the 
matter  when  Rutledge  joined  them,  on  the  hunt  for 
Calhoun. 

The  comments  on  the  President's  negro  luncheon 
were  all  adverse,  though  expressed  in  terms  of  vary 
ing  elegance  and  force  from  the  keen  and  polished 
irony  of  Mr.  Ruffin  to  Mr.  Killam's  brutal  outbursts 
and  picturesque  profanity.  Mr.  Hazard,  not  having 
the  same  sectional  view-point  as  the  others,  though  of 
the  same  political  creed,  was  an  interested  listener. 
Senator  Ruffin  referred  to  the  editorial  in  The  Mail 
and  drew  Evans  into  the  discussion; 

The  young  man,  glad  to  be  untrammelled  by  edi- 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          141 

torial  discretion,  gave  free  rein  to  his  indignation,  but 
in  deference  to  Mr.  Hazard's  presence  was  careful  to 
make  some  allowance  and  excuses  for  the  opinion  of 
Northern  people  on  the  matter  of  social  amenities  to 
negroes.  However,  to  compensate  for  this  concession 
and  leave  no  doubt  of  his  opinion,  he  was  even  more 
picturesque  than  Mr.  Killam,  if  not  so  profane  —  and 
consequently  more  forcible,  Hazard  thought  —  in 
paying  his  respects  to  Mr.  Phillips'  negro  policy. 

But  Senator  Killam  resented  even  the  suggestion  of 
excuse  for  Northern  opinion,  and  opened  up  an  even 
more  choice  and  outrageous  assortment  of  profanity 
and  invective.  Rutledge,  Calhoun  and  Senator  Ruf- 
fin  were  ashamed  at  his  disregard  of  ordinary  decen 
cies,  while  Hazard  assumed  a  look  of  polite  amuse 
ment.  Mr.  Killam's  satellite,  Smith,  however,  was 
vastly  tickled  at  his  master's  performance,  and  took 
pains  to  show  his  surpassing  admiration.  Smith  was 
a  raw-boned,  half-washed  giant  with  long  hair  that 
never  knew  a  shampoo,  who  owed  his  election  to  Con 
gress  to  a  gift  of  stump-speaking  and  a  consistent 
devotion  to  Senator  Killam's  political  fortunes.  He 
usually  kept  quiet  when  his  chief  was  there  to  speak. 
He  did  so  on  that  afternoon  till,  carried  away  by  Mr. 
Killam's  extravagances  about  niggers  in  white  dining- 
rooms,  he  blurted  out: 

"Yes;    I  suppose  now  Miss  Elise  Phillips  will  be 
getting  sweet  on  Doctor  Woods.     The  nig- 
Smash  ! 

Rutledge  struck  him  on  the  point  of  the  jaw  and 
he  fell  in  an  awkward  heap  between  a  chair  and  the 
wall.  He  was  up  in  a  moment  growling  like  a  mas 
tiff,  but  was  restrained  by  Calhoun  and  Hazard.  Rut- 


142          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

ledge  was  standing  perfectly  still,  his  thumbs  in  his 
trousers  pockets,  showing  no  excitement  save  in  the 
glint  of  his  eye.  Smith  was  muttering  his  desire  to 
fight  it  out.  He  could  not  talk  plainly,  for  the  blow 
had  unhinged  his  loosely  clacking  jaw.  Hazard,  Kil- 
lam  and  Calhoun  held  him  by  force  till  he  was  quiet. 
It  would  have  been  impossible  to  prevent  his  forcing 
a  further  clash  perhaps  if  Senator  Ruffin  had  not  in 
sisted  on  ending  the  matter  just  there. 

"  Gentlemen !  "  he  said,  "  this  must  stop  right  here. 
None  of  us  can  afford  to  pursue  the  miserable  affair 
further.  We  should  all  be  ashamed  that  a  young 
lady's  name  has  been  used  in  this  discussion  at  all, 
and  especially  in  such  a  manner  was  it  unpardonable! 
Mr.  Smith  certainly  forgot  himself;  and  while  Mr. 
Rutledge  acted  from  a  chivalrous  impulse  he  will  learn 
when  he  is  older  that  a  blow  usually  advertises  rather 
than  suppresses  an  insult  to  a  woman." 

It  began  to  dawn  upon  Mr.  Smith  by  this  time  that 
he  had  committed  a  woeful  breach  of  good  manners, 
and  with  a  parvenu's  awe  of  "  propriety  "  he  was 
more  than  anxious  to  have  the  affair  hushed  up. 
None  the  less  did  he  wish  to  keep  secret  his  knock 
down.  He  got  out  as  quietly  as  possible  in  search 
of  a  surgeon.  Rutledge  retired  with  Calhoun,  who 
slapped  him  on  the  back  as  they  went  down  the  cor 
ridor  and  whispered,  "  Good  old  boy !  Served  him 
right,  the  damn  dog." 

Senator  Ruffin  sent  for  the  attendant  who  had  left 
the  committee-room  as  soon  as  quiet  was  restored, 
and  bought  his  silence  with  a  five-dollar  bill.  This 
honest  man  was  true  to  his  promise  to  keep  his  mouth 
shut,  but  he  overlooked  informing  the  Senator  that 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          143 

he  had  already  given  the  first  of  his  co-labourers  he 
met  in  the  hall  a  fragmentary  account  of  the  mix-up. 
He  had  given  the  names  only  of  Senators  Ruffin  and 
Killam,  as  he  did  not  know  the  others,  all  of  whom 
he  thought  were  members  of  the  Lower  House. 

The  reporters  were  on  the  trail  in  an  hour.  They 
interviewed  the  Senators,  but  these  were  dumb.  They 
found  that  the  Senate  attendant  who  had  his  informa 
tion  second-hand  was  the  only  source  of  news  supply. 
What  this  fellow  lacked  in  knowledge,  however,  he 
supplied  out  of  his  imagination;  and  the  details  grew 
and  multiplied  as  different  reporters  interviewed  him. 
At  best  there  was  much  to  be  supplied  by  the  young 
gentlemen  of  the  press,  and  the  result  was  as  many 
different  stories  as  there  were  men  on  the  job.  The 
nearest  any  of  them  got  to  the  truth  was  to  say  that 
two  Congressmen  had  been  discussing  the  negro  ques 
tion  and  had  come  to  blows  because  some  woman's 
name  had  been  dragged  in,  and  that  one  had  broken 
the  other's  jaw.  This  much  in  the  evening  papers. 

By  the  next  morning  the  newspaper  ferrets  had 
located  all  the  actors  and  eye-witnesses  and  gave  their 
names  to  the  public.  Fortunately  the  attendant  had 
not  caught  Smith's  remark  but  only  his  rebuke  by 
Senator  Ruffin.  So  that  the  public  knew  only  that 
Evans  Rutledge  had  unset  or  broken  the  jaw  of  Con 
gressman  Smith  because  of  some  improper  use  of  a 
young  lady's  name.  Whose,  none  of  the  gentlemen 
would  say. 

Evans  Rutledge  was  in  a  fever  of  anxiety  lest  that 
name  should  get  to  the  public.  He  was  sure  that  he 
could  not  face  Elise  again  if  it  did.  Senator  Ruffin's 


144          THE    CALL   OF    THE    SOUTH 

rebuke  had  sunk  deep  into  his  heart  and  he  felt  more 
guilty  than  Smith.  He  looked  over  the  morning  and 
evening  papers  very  carefully  to  see  whether  they  had 
discovered  the  young  woman,  before  he  finally  de 
cided  to  go  to  Senator  DeVale's  as  he  had  promised 
Lola.  When  he  arrived  he  found,  beside  Elise,  only 
Alice  Mackenzie,  Hazard  and  young  MacLane,  an 
under-secretary  of  the  British  embassy.  Others  who 
were  to  come  failed  to  appear. 

Elise  was  not  pleased  with  the  situation.  She  was 
quite  willing  to  be  ordinarily  civil  to  Mr.  Rutledge, 
but  she  knew  that  nothing  could  separate  MacLane 
and  Alice  Mackenzie,  and  that  Hazard  had  known 
Lola  so  long  and  had  proposed  to  her  so  regularly 
and  insistently  that  he  was  for  her  or  for  nobody. 
It  looked  a  little  too  much,  therefore,  as  if  she  had 
chosen  Evans  for  her  very  own  for  the  evening.  She 
did  not  want  him  to  think  such  a  thing  possible.  She 
remembered  his  point-blank  editorial  utterance  that 
those  small  sentiments  —  loves  and  hates  —  melted 
away  before  exhibitions  of  social  equality  with  ne 
groes  —  so  at  least  she  construed  it  —  and  she  could 
not  but  resent  it,  though  she  would  not  admit  she 
troubled  herself  to  do  that. 

"  Now,  young  people,"  said  Lola,  "  as  the  pro 
gramme  has  been  spoiled  we  will  make  this  an  eve 
ning  of  do-as-you-please." 

"  Good,  very  good,"  commented  Hazard.  "  In  that 
case  you  will  please  to  come  over  here  and  take  this 
chair  and  let's  finish  that  conversation  we  were  hav 
ing  last  night  when  the  unpronounceable  Russian  took 
you  away  from  me." 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  145 

"  I  am  afraid  that  conversation  is  a  serial  story," 
she  laughed,  taking  the  chair  he  placed  for  her. 

MacLane  asked  Alice  Mackenzie  some  vague  ques 
tion  about  a  song,  which  only  she  could  interpret, 
and  they  by  common  impulse  went  through  the  wide 
door  to  the  piano  in  the  back  parlour,  where  after 
she  had  hummed  a  short  love  balled  for  him  to  piano 
accompaniment  they  dropped  into  a  pianissimo  duet 
of  love  without  accompaniment. 

Elise,  feeling  that  she  was  being  thus  thrown  at  Mr. 
Rutledge's  head,  came  to  the  mark  with  spirit  and 
kept  him  guessing  for  an  hour.  She  resented  his  pos 
sible  inference  that  she  had  chosen  him  for  an  eve 
ning's  tctc-a-tcte,  and  set  about  to  show  him  that  such 
was  not  the  fact  by  a  display  of  perversity  and  bril 
liance  which  dazzled  while  it  irritated  him.  She 
would  assume  for  a  moment  an  intimately  friendly, 
even  confiding,  manner  that  like  the  breath  of  the 
honeysuckle  at  his  Pacolet  plantation  home  would 
set  his  senses  a-swim,  —  and  in  the  next  moment  chill 
his  glowing  heart  with  the  iciest  of  conventional  re 
serve  or  answer  his  sincerest  speeches  with  the  light 
disdain  and  indifference  of  a  mocking  spirit.  At  one 
time  she  wrould  kindle  his  admiration  for  her  quick 
ness  of  thought  and  keenness  of  repartee ;  and  again 
appear  so  dull  and  careless  that  he  must  needs  ex 
plain  his  own  essays  at  wit. 

Her  caprices,  so  plainly  intentional  yet  inexplicable, 
exasperated  him  almost  to  the  point  of  open  rebellion, 
and  the  more  evident  his  perturbation  became,  the 
more  spirit  she  put  into  the  game.  She  won  him  back 
from  a  half-dozen  fits  of  resentful  impatience  to  the 


146          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

very  edge  of  intoxication,  —  only  to  bait  him  again 
more  outrageously. 

Lola  DeVale,  perfectly  familiar  with  the  theme  of 
Oliver  Hazard's  serial,  found  time  even  while  admir 
ing  Hazard's  ability  to  decorate  his  story  in  ever- 
changing  and  ever  pleasing  colours,  to  note  that  Elise 
was  giving  Rutledge  a  tempestuous  hour. 

"  It's  a  shame  for  her  to  treat  him  so,"  she  said  to 
Hazard,  interpreting  her  meaning  by  a  nod  toward 
Elise  and  Evans. 

"  I  hadn't  noticed.     What's  she  doing  to  him  ?  " 

"  I  believe  he  loves  her,  and  she  has  been  treating 
him  shamefully  all  evening." 

"  So  that  was  it,"  murmured  Hazard.  "  She  cer 
tainly  ought  to  be  good  to  him." 

"  Beg  pardon,  I  didn't  understand  you,"  said  Lola. 

"  I  said  she  ought  to  be  good  to  him." 

"  I  heard  that.     But  the  other  remark  you  made?  " 

Hazard  caught  himself,  and  looked  at  Lola  steadily. 
"  I  was  so  bold  as  to  express  an  opinion  —  which  had 
not  been  requested  —  and  to  aver  that  —  she  —  er  — 
ought  to  be  good  to  him,"  he  repeated  with  an  over 
done  blankness  of  countenance. 

"  You  come  on,"  said  Lola  as  she  rose.  "  We  are 
going  to  scare  up  something  for  you  people  to  eat," 
she  remarked  to  the  others. 

"  Now,  sir,"  she  said  when  she  had  gotten  him  into 
the  dining-room,  "  I'll  see  what  sort  of  a  reporter  I 
could  be.  Stand  right  there,  and  look  at  me.  Now, 
-  why  did  Mr.  Rutledge  knock  Congressman  Smith 
down  ?  No,  no,  stand  perfectly  still  —  and  no  •  eva 
sion." 

"  What  are  you  talking  about?"  asked  Hazard. 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          147 

"  Don't  be  silly,"  the  girl  said  impatiently.  "  I 
read  something-  more  than  the  society  and  fashion 
columns  in  the  newspapers.  Tell  me.  Why  did  he 
break  Mr.  Smith's  jaw?  —  who  was  the  young  lady? 
—  and  what  did  Mr.  Smith  say  of  her  ?  I  know  it 
was  Elise ;  but  tell  me  about  it  —  and  hurry,  for  those 
people  are  getting  hungry." 

"  I  must  not  tell  that,  Lola,"  Hazard  answered  her 
seriously. 

"  A  man  should  have  no  secrets  from  his  —  pro 
posed  —  wife." 

"  Make  it  promised  wife  and  I'll  agree,"  Hazard 
replied  eagerly,  taking  her  hand. 

"No;  we'll  leave  it  proposed  awhile  longer,"  she 
answered  him  archly.  "  I've  become  so  accustomed 
to  it  that  way  that  I'd  hate  to  change  it."  The  srnile 
she  gave  him  as  she  slowly  drew  away  her  hand  would 
have  bribed  any  man  to  treason. 

"  But  we  will  compromise  it,"  Lola  continued.  "  I 
will  be  real  careful  of  your  honour.  I'll  ask  you  a 
question,  and  if  the  answer  is  yes  you  needn't  answer 
it.  Now  —  was  it  not  an  insult  to  Elise  that  Mr. 
Rutledge  resented  ?  " 

"  Lola,  when  you  said  that  word  wife  a  moment 
since  you  were  —  heavenly." 

"  Hush  your  nonsense,  Ollie.  ...  I  knew  it  was 
Elise  when  you  said  that  thing  in  the  parlour.  .  .  . 
Did  Mr.  Rutledge  really  break  his  jaw  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  was  beautiful,  beautiful,"  said  Hazard  with 
enthusiasm.  "Such  a  clean  left-hander!  Dropped 
him  like  a  beef  —  he's  big  as  two  of  Rutledge  —  in 
a  wink  —  before  he  could  finish  his  sentence,  —  the 
low-bred  dog!  Yes,  beautifully  done,  beaut— 


148          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

"  Here  they  come,"  said  Lola.  She  was  busily 
breaking  out  the  stores  from  the  sideboard  when  Elise 
and  Rutledge  appeared. 

"  Here,  Mr.  Hazard,  take  this  dish  into  that  moon 
ing  young  couple  in  the  back  parlour.  And  you,  Mr. 
Rutledge,  just  force  them  to  eat  enough  of  these 
pickles  to  keep  their  tempers  in  equilibrium." 

"  Oh,  my  dear,"  she  exclaimed  when  the  two  men 
were  gone,  "  I've  discovered  the  name  of  the  young 
woman  Mr.  Rutledge  fought  for.  Ollie  let  it  get 
away  from  him  —  not  the  name,  but  I  figured  it  out. 
And  for  whom  do  you  suppose  it  was  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  the  slightest  idea,"  answered  Elise  in  all 
truthfulness. 

"  Of  all  women  you  should.  I  told  you  I  could 
see  it  in  his  eyes,''  laughed  Lola. 

"  Not  for  me?  "  Elise  cried  in  genuine  surprise. 

"  For  you." 

"What  did  the  man  say?"  she  asked  quickly. 

"  Some  caddish  thing,  of  course.  Men  are  so  nasty. 
I  didn't  have  time  to  get  the  particulars  before  you 
and  Mr.  Rutledge  followed  us  in  here.  But  Ollie 
says  it  was  just  b-e-a-u-t-iful  the  way  Mr.  Rutledge 
dropped  him  —  and  he's  three  times  as  big  as  Mr. 
Rutledge,  too  —  " 

"  We've  tried  moral  suasion,  strategy,  force,  every 
expedient,"  interrupted  Hazard  as  he  and  Rutledge 
came  back  into  the  dining-room,  "  but  the  Scotch  lass 
and  her  laddie  positively  decline  to  be  fed  by  us. 
They  are  fully  supplied  by  their  own  ravings  —  ho ! 
don't  throw  that  salad  at  me!  " 

"  Here,   take   a  dose   of  celery   quick  —  a   biblical 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          149 

pun  like  that  is  a  too  serious  tax  upon  the  simple  Con 
gressional  brain,"  said  Lola. 

Hazard  looked  foolish,  and  he  felt  like  a  fool;  but 
what  real  manly  lover  outside  the  story-books  was 
ever  else  than  foolish  when  love's  fit  was  upon  him? 

None  of  the  quartette  in  the  dining-room  was  the 
least  bit  hungry,  and  it  was  but  a  very  few  moments 
till  the  young  hostess  led  the  way  back  to  the  parlour, 
Elise  and  Rutledge  following  slowly.  When  they 
reached  the  stairway  Elise  seated  herself  on  the  third 
step  and  by  the  gesture  with  which  she  arranged  her 
skirts  invited  Evans  to  a  seat  below  her. 

"  Look  at  that,"  said  Lola  to  Hazard,  glancing 
over  her  shoulder  as  they  passed  into  the  parlour. 
"  Now  she's  going  to  be  good  to  him." 

"  In  the  name  of  heavens,  woman,  you  didn't  tell 
her!" 

"Why  not?  She's  the  very  one  that  ought  to 
know.  She  will  not  inform  the  reporters." 

"  But  what  will  she  think  of  me?"  asked  Hazard 
in  some  concern. 

"You?  Why,  you  don't  count!  You  are  only  a 
pawn  in  their  game."  As  his  eyes  flashed  she  added, 
with  a  bewildering  tilt  of  her  chin :  "  I  promise  to 
make  good  all  your  losses." 

"  May  my  losses  prosper!  "  prayed  Hazard  audibly. 

Elise  used  a  makeshift  conversation  with  Rutledge 
till  she  heard  the  humming  accents  of  the  others  well 
going,  and  then  - 

"  Mr.  Rutledge,"  she  said,  "  I  wish  to  speak  to 
you  of  your  defence  of  my  name  when  that  Mr. 
Smith  —  " 


150          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

The  suddenness  of  it  routed  all  Rutledge's  cool 
senses. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Phillips,"  he  broke  in,  "  I  am  so  sorry 
that  I  should  have  done  anything  to  accentuate  that 
abominable  fellow's  remark.  I  am  so  heartily 
ashamed  of  my  unpardonable  boyish  thoughtlessness 
and  lack  of  consideration  that  I  cannot  find  words 
to  express  my  contempt  for  myself,"  etc.,  to  the  same 
effect,  without  giving  Elise  a  chance  to  speak,  till  she 
was  surprised  in  turn,  then  amused,  then  annoyed. 
Finally,  in  order  to  bring  him  to  a  reasonable  coher 
ency,  she  interrupted  his  self-denunciations. 

"  What  did  Mr.  Smith  say  of  me,  Mr.  Rutledge?  " 

"  I  can't  repeat  that  to  you,  Miss  Phillips." 

"  You  must  if  the  words  are  decent.  Tell  me  at 
once.  I  must  know." 

"  He  simply   coupled   your   name   with   that   of  - 
Doctor  Woods  —  the  negro  who  —  lunched  at  your 
home  in  Cleveland." 

Evans  forced  out  the  last  half-dozen  words  with  a 
visible  effort  —  which  the  girl  may  have  misinter 
preted. 

"Oh!"  She  dropped  her  face  in  her  hands.  She 
had  not  dreamed  of  that  explanation.  But  she  gath 
ered  herself  in  a  moment.  Every  pennyweight  of  her 
admirable  pride  came  to  her  support.  At  the  mention 
of  "  negro  luncheon  "  she  was  on  guard  against  Rut- 
ledge,  her  kindly  purpose  forgotten.  She  sat  straight 
up  and  with  a  perfect  dignity  said : 

"  I  thank  you,  Mr.  Rutledge,  for  your  well-meant 
efforts  in  my  behalf,  but  my  father  is  abundantly  able 
both  to  choose  the  guests  who  shall  dine  at  his  table, 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          151 

and  to  protect  my  name,  whenever  indeed  it  shall  need 
a  champion."  She  closed  the  discussion  by  rising. 

Evans  did  not  tarry  long.  He  was  too  badly  scat 
tered.  The  other  guests  soon  followed,  except  Elise, 
who  remained  overnight  at  Lola's  insistence. 

"  Come  right  up  to  my  room  and  tell  me  all  about 
it.  ...  What  did  you  do  to  that  miserable  man? 
You  ought  to  be  spanked,  Elise." 

"  I  did  nothing  to  him." 

"  And  why  didn't  you  ?  I  said  to  Ollie  when  you 
sat  down  on  the  stairs,  '  Now  she's  going  to  be  good 
to  him.'  Did  you  tell  him  you  knew?  " 

"  Yes." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"  He  —  apologized,"  said  Elise  with  a  nervous 
laugh. 

"Apologized!  For  mercy's  sake!  —  and  what 
else?" 

"  I  accepted  his  apology  —  on  condition  he  would 
not  do  it  again ;  "  and  she  broke  out  into  real  mirth 
at  sight  of  Lola's  scandalized  face. 


CHAPTER    XVI 

IF  The  Mail's  editorial  was  conservative,  other 
papers  were  not  so  respectful.  It  was  worse  even 
than  Mrs.  Phillips  had  predicted.  All  over  the  South 
the  papers  ran  the  whole  gamut  of  indignation  and 
abuse  from  lofty  scorn  all  the  way  down  to  plain 
editorial  fits.  The  entire  Southern  press,  Democratic, 
Republican,  and  Independent,  except  a  few  sheets  ed 
ited  by  negroes,  were  of  one  mind  on  the  subject  of 
negroes  dining  with  white  men.  Papers  that  had  sup 
ported  Mr.  Phillips  heartily  were  all  severe,  some  of 
them  bitter,  in  their  denunciations. 

The  Wordyfellow  element  in  the  school-fund  fight 
welcomed  the  President's  act  as  a  boon  from  heaven. 
They  raised  a  howl  that  was  heard  in  every  nook  and 
corner  of  the  Southland,  and  that  by  the  very  thun 
dering  shock  of  its  roar  broke  through  and  drove  back 
the  forces  of  the  negro's  friends.  The  weak-willed 
were  borne  down  and  the  timid  and  the  doubting  were 
carried  away  by  the  purely  physical  force  of  noise  or 
by  having  lashed  to  fury  their  sometimes  latent  but 
ever-present  terror  of  the  Black  Peril.  And  not  only 
the  weak,  indeed,  and  the  timid  and  the  doubting  went 
in  crowds  to  the  Wordyfellow  camp,  but  strong  men, 
fearless  men,,  men  of  the  most  philanthropic  impulses 
toward  the  negro  race,  men  who  had  fought  openly 
and  ably  the  Wordyfellow  propaganda,  became  silent 

162 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          153 

and  began  to  waver,  or  deserted  the  negro's  cause 
and  unhesitatingly  espoused  the  other  side. 

In  vain  did  the  negro's  staunchest  friends  proclaim 
their  indignation  at  the  President's  lunching  with 
Bishop  Martin  and  Doctor  Woods,  and  try  to  con 
vince  their  people  that  the  South  should  be  true  to 
its  own  interests  and  do  simple  justice  to  the  negro 
despite  any  act  of  his  fool  friends.  It  was  useless. 
The  Southern  people  —  the  floating  vote,  the  balance 
of  power  —  were  in  no  mood  to  draw  fine  distinc 
tions,  nor  to  listen  to  theories  in  face  of  facts.  A 
careless  hand  had  struck  the  wavering  balance,  and 
the  beam  went  steadily  down. 

Reports  of  defections  began  to  come  rapidly  to  Mr. 
Phillips.  Those  from  the  negroes  in  the  South  told 
of  the  losses  faithfully,  but  gave  any  other  than  the 
true  reason  for  the  change  of  sentiment ;  while  letters 
from  his  white  advisers  told  him  more  or  less  plainly 
that  his  negro  luncheon  had  done  the  damage  and 
that  the  cause  was  as  good  as  lost. 

These  reports  roused  the  President's  righting  blood. 
He  sent  for  Mackenzie. 

"  Read  that  stack  of  letters,  Mac,  and  you  will  see 
that  the  negroes  in  the  South  are  in  a  fair  way  to  be 
trampled  to  death.  Now  I  must  head  this  thing  off, 
and  I  want  your  help.  I  am  determined  to  defeat  that 
Wordyfellow  movement  if  there  is  power  in  the  Fed 
eral  government.  I'll  not  be  content  to  have  the  laws 
annulled  by  the  Federal  Supreme  Court  after  they 
are  passed,  even  if  that  can  be  done.  We  must  find 
some  way  to  win  this  fight  in  the  elections  and  thus 
give  the  lie  to  these  prophecies  that  that  luncheon  has 
lost  the  battle." 


154          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

So  he  and  the  astute  Mackenzie  rubbed  their  heads 
together  for  a  week:  and  finally  came  to  a  remedy 
so  simple  that  they  were  ashamed  not  to  have  thought 
of  it  at  once.  Simple  indeed  —  if  they  could  apply  it. 

In  less  than  another  week,  Mr.  Hare,  the  recog 
nized  administration  mouthpiece  in  the  House,  intro 
duced  a  bill  appropriating  moneys  from  the  national 
treasury  to  the  States  in  proportion  to  population  for 
purposes  of  public  education.  The  milk  in  this  legis 
lative  cocoanut  was  a  provision  that  the  money  appor 
tioned  to  each  State  should  be  so  distributed  among 
the  individual  public  schools  of  the  State  that,  when 
taken  together  with  the  State's  own  appropriation,  all 
the  schools  in  the  State  should  be  open  for  terms  of 
equal  length. 

From  statistics  carefully  compiled  in  the  office  of 
the  Commissioner  of  Education  Mr.  Phillips  and  Mr. 
Mackenzie  had  calculated  the  amount  of  the  appro 
priation  so  that  if  the  Southern  States  adopted  the 
Wordyfellow  plan  the  negro  race  would  get  virtually 
the  whole  of  the  appropriation  from  the  national  gov 
ernment. 

Elise  Phillips,  persuading  herself  that  she  was  on 
the  lookout  for  reasons  to  despise  Mr.  Rutledge,  reg 
ularly  read  the  editorial  column  of  The  Mail. 

There  one  morning  she  learned  that  "  the  immedi 
ate  effect  of  the  introduction  of  the  Hare  Bill  in  the 
House  has  been  to  transfer  the  fight  from  the  South 
to  Washington.  True,  the  Wordyfellow  speakers  and 
press  have  raised  a  more  ear-splitting  howl,  and 
opened  up  with  every  gun  of  argument,  appeal,  abuse, 
expletive  and  rant;  but  they  see  clearly  that  this  bill 
if  passed  will  bring  all  their  schemes  to  naught,  and 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  155 

that  the  issue  has  been  taken  out  of  their  hands.  It 
is  tantalizingly  uncertain  to  them  whether  the  bill  will 
become  a  law ;  for  there  are  many  incidental  ques 
tions  and  considerations  which  complicate  the  issue 
here  at  Washington.  But  all  men  know  that  when 
Mr.  Phillips  sets  his  head  for  anything  he  will  move 
heaven  and  earth  to  attain  it.  Few  doubt  his  power 
to  whip  many  Representatives  and  Senators  into  line 
or  his  readiness  to  wield  the  whip  if  the  fate  of  any 
pet  measure  demands  it.  There  is  much  of  the  Jesuit 
in  Mr.  Phillips'  philosophy  of  life  and  action.  When 
he  believes  a  thing  is  right  he  believes  that  no  squeam 
ish  notion  should  prevent  his  bringing  it  to  pass. 
Keep  your  eyes  on  him !  It  is  always  interesting  to 
see  how  he  does  it." 

"  Pity  he  is  not  a  Senator!  "  Elise  commented  with 
scornful  impatience  as  she  threw  the  paper  down, 
"  that  papa  might  whip  him  into  becoming  modesty!  " 

At  the  moment  Elise  was  so  delivering  her  mind, 
a  telegraph  boy  was  handing  Rutledge  a  message. 
He  tore  it  open  and  read : 

"  COLUMBIA,  S.  C,  Jan.  Qth,  191 — . 
"  EVANS  RUTLEDGE, 

"  Washington,  D.  C. 

"  Exactly  how  old  are  you  and  where  do  you  vote  ? 

"  W.  D.  ROBERTSON." 

Evans  looked  around  behind  the  telegraph-sheet  as 
if  seeking  an  explanation.  He  gazed  quizzically  at 
the  messenger-boy,  but  that  young  gentleman  only 
grinned  and  then  looked  solemn. 


156          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

"  Well,"  Evans  muttered,  "  what  the  devil's  up 
Robbie's  back  now?  " 

He  sat  down  and  thought  the  thing  over  awhile. 
Then  he  constructed  a  reply. 

"WASHINGTON,  Jan.  9th,  191 — . 

"  W.  D.  ROBERTSON,  Atty.-General, 
"  Columbia,  S.  C. 

"  Your  telegram  received.  If  it  is  official  I  decline 
to  answer.  Entre  nous  I  will  be  thirty-one  on  the 
29th  of  February  at  something  like  twenty  minutes 
past  three  in  the  morning  —  they  didn't  have  a  stop 
watch  in  the  house.  I  vote  in  Cherokee  County,  Pa- 
colet  precinct,  generally  of  late  in  a  cigar-box  in  the 
shed-room  of  Jake  Sims's  store  where  Gus  Herndon 
used  to  run  a  barber-shop  when  you  and  I  were 
young,  Maggie.  Why?  EVANS  RUTLEDGE." 

"  Send  that  collect,  youngster.  We'll  make  old 
Robbie  pay  for  his  impertinence." 

"  Look  here,  sonny,"  he  called  to  the  boy  who  had 
gotten  out  the  door,  "  bring  any  answer  to  that  down 
to  the  Capitol.  I  am  going  to  have  a  look  at  the 
Senate." 

He  was  sitting  beside  Lola  DeVale  in  the  members' 
gallery  when  the  answer  came. 

"  COLUMBIA,  S.  C.,  Jan.  9th,  191 — -. 
"  HON.  EVANS  RUTLEDGE, 

"  Washington,  D.  C. 

"  Nothing  much.  The  governor  of  South  Carolina 
simply  did  not  feel  like  giving  a  United  States  Sena- 
torship  either  to  a  boy  or  to  a  man  from  another 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  157 

State.  He  is  just  mailing  your  commission  as  Jones's 
successor.  Don't  decline  it  before  you  hear  the  whole 
story.  Congratulations  to  you. 

"  W.  D.  ROBERTSON." 

"  This  has  '  an  ancient  and  fish-like  smell/  Read 
it,"  Rutledge  said  to  Lola  when  he  had  recovered 
from  his  astonishment  sufficiently  to  speak. 

She  took  the  telegram  and  while  she  was  trying 
to  interpret  its  import  Senator  Killam  came  hurriedly 
into  the  gallery  and  seized  upon  Rutledge. 

"  I  got  a  telegram  from  the  governor  half  an  hour 
ago  and  have  been  trying  to  find  you  ever  since,"  he 
exclaimed.  "  He  has  appointed  you  —  oh,  you  have 
heard,  I  see.  Well,  come  right  down  with  me.  I 
want  to  present  you  to  your  colleagues." 

Evans  could  doubt  no  longer,  and  Lola  DeVale  had 
grasped  the  meaning  of  it. 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  be  the  first  to  congratulate  you," 
she  said,  and  he  felt  the  sincerity  of  her  good  wishes 
in  her  warm  hand-grasp.  Then  Senator  Killam  car 
ried  him  off. 

"  I  know  it  came  '  like  a  bolt  from  the  blue '  to 
you,"  Robertson  wrote  to  him ;  "  but  the  whys  and 
wherefores  need  not  mystify  you.  There  cannot  be 
the  slightest  doubt  of  your  ability  to  fill  the  office  — 
full  to  the  brim ;  and  the  rest  is  easy.  You  know  the 
old  man  fully  intended  all  along  to  contest  for  the 
place  with  Jones,  whose  term  would  have  expired 
with  the  old  man's  term  as  governor.  Jones's  demise, 
however,  presented  a  problem  to  him  that  has  driven 
him  to  the  verge  of  lunacy  for  a  week.  He  couldn't 


158          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

give  himself  the  commission,  of  course.  He  couldn't 
resign  and  get  it,  for  the  lieutenant-governor  has  been 
the  avowed  supporter  of  LaRoque  for  the  Senator- 
ship.  He  couldn't  give  it  to  LaRoque  or  Pressley, 
for  the  three  of  them  are  too  evenly  matched.  .  .  . 
When  he  finally  came  to  the  idea  of  appointing  some 
one  to  fill  the  vacancy  who  was  clearly  not  in  the 
running  so  that  the  primaries  might  settle  it  among 
the  three  of  them,  I  suggested  you.  He  jumped  at 
the  idea.  .  .  .  The  old  man  has  every  reason  to  feel 
kindly  toward  you  both  for  your  father's  sake  and  for 
your  own  excellent  work's  sake,  and  he  does  not  doubt 
your  friendliness  to  himself.  .  .  .  You  will  have  less 
than  six  months  in  which  to  make  a  name  for  your 
self,  but  —  perhaps  —  who  can  tell  ?  .  .  .  I  wish  I 
had  such  an  opportunity.  I  am  heartily  glad  you 
have  it." 

Senator  Rutledge  was  pitched  right  into  the  middle 
of  the  fight  on  the  Hare  Bill  —  and  fight  it  was  for 
him.  Senator  Killam  essayed  to  take  the  young  man 
under  his  wing  and  chaperone  his  conduct  according 
to  his  ideas  of  the  political  proprieties,  but  he  found 
that  the  junior  Senator  had  a  mind  of  his  own,  and 
could  not  be  managed,  overawed  or  bullied.  This 
roused  Mr.  Killam's  ire  at  once.  He  wasn't  accus 
tomed  to  it.  The  dead  Senator  Jones  had  never  had 
the  effrontery  to  think  for  himself;  and  for  this 
youngster  to  presume  to  walk  alone  was  more  than 
Mr.  Killam  could  forgive. 

Solely  because  of  Mr.  Killam's  personal  attitude 
and  treatment  of  him,  Rutledge  wished  it  were  over 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  159 

and  done  with  long  before  the  finish;    but  he  never 
lost  his  nerve. 

It  seemed  that  the  suspense  would  be  ended  quickly 
when  the  House  under  pressure  of  the  rules  passed 
the  Hare  Bill  almost  without  debate ;  but  when  it 
came  before  the  Senate  it  was  evident  at  once  that 
those  dignitaries  would  take  abundance  of  time  to 
consider  it,  —  if  for  no  other  reason  than  to  prove 
to  themselves  they  were  the  greatest  deliberative  body 
on  earth. 

However,  with  all  the  Senate's  deliberation  the  very 
frenzy  of  the  Wordyfellow  crowd's  screams  evidenced 
their  realization  that  their  game  was  balked  —  and 
that,  too,  in  a  manner  that  was  maddening :  for  it 
left  them  not  the  frenzied  pleasure  of  fighting  their 
precious  battle  against  the  negro  out  to  the  end  and 
going  down  to  harmless  defeat  in  pyrotechnic  glory. 
No;  it  placed  them  in  a  dilemma  where  they  must 
humiliate  themselves  by  a  surrender  before  the  battle, 
or  fight  it  to  a  barren  victory  at  the  polls,  which  would 
not  only  bring  actual  benefit  to  the  negro  in  the  South 
but  also  give  to  the  Northern  States  the  lion's  share 
of  a  large  appropriation. 

Facing  this  dilemma,  they  lost  heart  if  they  lost 
nothing  of  noise.  In  all  of  the  interested  States  ex 
cept  Mississippi  serious  discussion  of  the  question 
grew  less  and  less  rapidly,  and  was  postponed  until 
after  the  Senate  should  vote.  In  Mississippi,  how 
ever,  the  tension  was  increased  by  the  Senate's  delib 
eration  because  the  date  set  for  the  election  on  the 
proposed  Wordyfellow  amendment  to  the  State  con 
stitution  was  some  time  before  the  Senate  would  be 


160          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

forced  to  vote.  The  Mississippians  could  not  decide 
for  their  lives  whether  they  preferred  to  vote  on  their 
amendment  first  or  have  the  Senate  vote  first  on  the 
bill.  With  a  faint  hope  that  the  bill  might  not  pass, 
they  were  in  obvious  difficulties  in  either  case. 

Southern  Senators  were  overwhelmed  with  all  man 
ner  of  conflicting  and  confusing  petitions,  and  as  a 
result  about  one  half  of  them  favoured  the  bill  for 
one  reason  or  another,  while  the  other  half  more  or 
less  bitterly  opposed  it.  The  discussion,  when  the  bill 
finally  came  out  of  committee,  took  the  widest  range, 
—  from  the  constitutional  objections  raised  by  the 
Texas  Senator  (whose  State,  having  a  large  school- 
fund  income,  did  not  need  the  appropriation)  and  the 
savage  attacks  upon  the  negro  race  generally  by  Sen 
ator  Killam,  to  the  purely  pro-educational  reasoning 
of  most  of  the  supporting  Senators  from  the  South  — • 
among  whom  was  Senator  Ruffin  —  and  the  pro- 
negro  speech  of  the  young  Senator  Rutledge. 

The  adjective  pro-negro  may  give  an  erroneous 
impression  of  Senator  Rutledge's  ideas.  The  term  is 
the  Senator's  own.  From  his  speech  in  full  in  the 
Congressional  Record  the  reader  may  determine  for 
himself  whether  the  term  is  apt. 


CHAPTER    XVII 

SENATOR  RUTLEDGE  gave  notice  that  on  February 
23d  he  would  address  the  Senate  on  the  Hare  Bill. 
On  that  day  the  galleries  were  crowded  to  hear  him, 
his  State's  delegation  in  the  House  was  present  in  a 
body,  accompanied  by  many  other  representatives  from 
North  and  South.  No  one  knew  how  he  would  vote, 
for  he  had  listened  much  and  talked  little.  He  said : 

"  Mr.  President :  There  have  been  many  terms 
used  on  this  floor  and  in  the  public  prints1  since  this 
bill  was  introduced,  by  which  to  distinguish  and  de 
fine  and  lay  open  to  public  view  the  motives  which  are 
supposed  to  lie  behind  the  votes  that  will  be  cast  for 
and  against  it. 

"  We  have  heard  '  unconstitutional,'  '  anti-negro,' 
'  pro-educational,'  '  watch-dog  of  the  treasury,'  and 
others  equally  descriptive  if  less  parliamentary.  I 
have  not  heard  '  pro-negro.' 

"  So,  to  save  my  friends  —  and  enemies,  if  I  have 
any  —  the  trouble  of  search  and  imaginings,  I  adopt 
that  term,  '  pro-negro'  as  descriptive  of  my  attitude 
toward  the  matters  affected  by  this  bill. 

"  It  is  an  open  secret,  Mr.  President,  that  this  meas 
ure,  which  bears  the  non-committal  title  of  '  an  act 
to  promote  education  '  is  a  White  House  production 
designed  and  introduced  for  the  single  purpose  of  de 
feating  what  is  known  as  the  Wordyfellow  school- 

161 


162          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

fund  movement  in  the  South  generally,  more  specif 
ically  now  in  the  State  of  Mississippi.  Because  I 
think  it  will  accomplish  that  purpose,  both  general 
and  special,  —  because  I  am  '  for  the  negro,'  -  -  for 
him  on  his  own  account,  —  for  his  elevation  as  a  race 
to  the  highest  level  which  his  essential  nature  in  the 
purposes  of  God  will  permit  him  to  attain,  —  because 
I  believe  the  success  of  the  Wordyfellow  movement 
would  mean  his  degradation,  his  hopeless  continu 
ance  in  his  present  low  estate,  —  because,  in  a  word, 
I  am  pro-negro;  I  shall  vote  for  this  bill. 

"  I  should  despise  myself,  sir,  if  I  had  within  me 
other  sentiments  toward  any  man  or  race  of  men, 
and  I  feel,  therefore,  that  it  is  not  unbecoming  in  me 
to  arrogate  to  myself  the  pure  unselfishness  of  this 
motive.  And  yet,  sir,  if  the  love  of  one's  race  may 
be  called  a  selfish  passion,  I  must  confess  that  right 
alongside  of  this  unselfish  desire  for  the  negro's  wel 
fare,  there  lies  in  my  heart  a  selfish  passion  for  the 
progress,  the  multiplying  prosperity  and  more  abound 
ing  happiness  of  my  own  people,  the  white  men  and 
women  of  the  South,  which  desire  also  with  no  less 
power  but  indeed  with  compelling  forcefulness  bids 
me  to  oppose  the  Wordyfellow  idea  with  every  faculty 
and  expedient;  and  therefore  to  vote  for  this  measure. 

"  I  wish  to  make  it  clear  at  the  outset  that,  while 
I  shall  heartily  support  this  White  House  bill,  I  give 
not  the  slightest  credit  to  the  President  for  having 
prepared  it  and  sent  it  here.  He  deserves  none.  The 
bill  is  a  necessity,  and  as  such  I  vote  for  it :  but  the 
President  is  the  one  man  who  has  made  it  a  necessity. 

"  If  he  had  not  injected  into  the  situation  his  negro 
luncheon  (and  to  that  I  will  pay  my  respects  before 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  163 

I  have  finished),  my  people  would  have  defeated  the 
Wordyfellow  movement;  for  the  battle  was  going 
our  way.  It  is  as  little  as  President  Phillips  can  do 
now  to  suggest  this  method,  expensive  though  it  is, 
to  repair  the  damage  he  has  done  the  negro's  cause 
in  the  South.  He  comes  praying  us  to  pay  the  negro 
out  of  the  difficulty  in  which  he  has  involved  him, 
and  as  friends  of  the  negro  there  is  nothing  for  us  to 
do  but  furnish  the  money,  however  much  we  may 
deplore  the  Executive  folly  that  makes  the  outlay 
imperative. 

"  Now,  Mr.  President,  let  us  inquire  directly  into 
the  merits  of  the  Wordyfellow  plan.  The  proposed 
amendment  to  the  constitution  of  Mississippi  provides 
that  the  school  fund  shall  be  divided  between  the  white 
and  negro  schools  in  proportion  to  the  taxes  paid  to 
the  State  by  each  of  the  two  races  for  school  pur 
poses.  As  there  are  six  negroes  to  four  whites  in  the 
State,  and  as  the  negroes  pay  less  than  ten  per  cent, 
of  the  school  taxes,  such  a  division  of  the  school  fund 
will  give  the  white  children  thirteen  days'  schooling 
to  the  negro's  one. 

"  Such  a  proposition  is  illogical,  pernicious,  insane. 

"  Look  at  the  logic  of  it.  Governor  Wordyfellow 
defends  the  general  proposition  by  some  scattering 
statistics  which  prove  to  his  mind  that  education  gen 
erally  is  not  good  for  the  negro;  but  he  justifies  the 
division  of  the  school  fund  on  the  basis  of  contribu 
tion  upon  the  supposed  principle  that  the  negro  will 
get  back  all  that  he  pays  in  and  therefore  cannot 
rightly  demand  more. 

"  That  so-called  principle  will  not  hold  water  a 
moment.  I  would  say  to  the  gentlemen  from  the 


164          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

South,  Mr.  President,  —  to  those  who  are  supporting 
the  Wordyfellow  propaganda  —  that  if  they  proceed 
on  that  theory  they  must  give  to  every  man  what  he 
pays  into  the  treasury:  which  means  that  the  State 
must  expend  more  for  the  tuition  of  the  sons  of  the 
rich  than  the  sons  of  the  poor.  If  every  man  has  a 
right  to  demand  for  his  own  children  the  taxes  he 
pays  for  school  purposes,  then  the  State  has  no  right 
to  tax  one  man  to  educate  another's  child  —  and  the 
promoters  of  this  idea  have  pulled  down  the  whole 
public  school  system  about  their  ears. 

"  If  such  a  division  is  proposed  on  the  ground  that 
no  sort  of  education  is  good  for  the  negro,  and  we 
believe  that,  then  let  us  take  away  from  the  negro 
by  constitutional  amendment  all  the  money  collected 
from  him  by  the  State  for  school  purposes  and  give 
it  to  the  white  children.  That  would  be  logical,  that 
would  be  sensible,  that  would  be  Scriptural.  Let  us 
be  logical  and  sensible  and  fearless  about  this  matter. 

"  But  I  cannot  think  these  leaders  of  the  Wordy- 
fellow  forces  believe  that,  Mr.  President,  though  I 
fear  that  they  have  persuaded  thousands  of  their  less 
intelligent  following  to  believe  it  thoroughly.  No,  you 
do  not  believe  it;  but  you  do  believe  that  some  par 
ticular  kinds  of  education  —  literary  education,  for 
example  — •  is  positively  harmful  to  the  negro,  while 
some  other  particular  sort  —  industrial  education, 
perhaps  —  is  beneficial  and  would  uplift  the  negro 
race. 

"  If  you  admit  that,  —  and  it  has  been  conceded 
on  this  floor  by  some  of  the  leaders  of  the  Wordy- 
fellow  movement  that  industrial  education  is  good  for 
the  negro  and  will  make  a  better  man  and  a  better 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  165 

citizen  of  him ;  then  in  face  of  the  appalling  menace 
of  his  ignorance  and  depravity  which  have  been 
painted  in  such  lurid  colours  here,  let  us  by  constitu 
tional  amendment  give  him  more  than  his  per  capita 
share  of  the  school  tax.  Yes,  let  us  give  to  him  pro 
portionately  in  keeping  with  our  keenest  fears,  our 
wildest  terror,  of  the  Black  Peril  —  all  if  need  be  — 
to  educate  him  in-  that  particular  line  that  will  uplift 
him  and  make  a  safe  citizen  of  him,  in  order  that  we 
may  save  ourselves  alive  and  escape  the  woes  of  that 
peril.  All  education  administered  by  the  State  is 
given  in  the  exercise  of  a  sort  of  quasi  police  power 
-  to  protect  itself  from  the  violence  of  ignorance : 
and  we  would  be  well  within  an  ancient  principle  if 
we  should  lay  out  extraordinary  funds  to  police  the 
black  cesspools  that  threaten  our  civic  life. 

"  It  is  clearly  demonstrable,  therefore,  that  upon 
any  theory  of  the  negro's  inability  or  limited  ability 
to  be  benefited  by  education,  or  upon  the  assumption 
of  its  positive  hurtfulness  to  him,  the  Wordyfellow 
amendment  is  absolutely  illogical.  The  whole  Wordy- 
fellow  proposition  is  based  upon  a  false  assumption 
in  the  first  place,  and  the  Wordyfellow  remedy  does 
not  have  the  merit  of  being  true  even  to  the  fictitious 
Wordyfellow  premises.  For  all  this  agitation  against 
the  education  of  the  negro  race  proceeds  upon  the 
theory  that  the  negro  is  not  altogether  a  man,  that 
he  is  without  the  one  aptitude  common  to  all  other 
peoples,  white,  yellow  or  red  —  the  disposition  to  be 
uplifted  in  civilization  by  the  spread  of  a  higher  intel 
ligence  among  his  race. 

"That  theory,  Mr.  President,  is  false!  And  while 
I  believe  the  great  majority  of  my  people  reject  it 


166          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

despite  the  insistence  with  which  it  has  been  in  small 
measure  openly,  in  large  measure  indirectly,  presented 
to  them  for  acceptance,  I  have  thought  it  worth  while 
to  inquire  closely  and  specifically  into  the  effect  of  the 
higher  literary  education  upon  the  black  men  and 
women  who  have  been  so  fortunate  as  to  acquire  it. 
I  give  to  the  Senators  not  only  as  the  result  of  my 
investigation  but  as  the  result  of  my  personal  observa 
tion  as  a  man  brought  up  in  the  South,  my  sincere 
opinion  that  education  of  the  negro  in  the  usual  lit 
erary  studies  from  the  kindergarten  to  the  college, 
as  well  as  along  industrial  lines,  is  as  a  rule  beneficial 
and  uplifting  to  him. 

"  It  is  true  that  a  smattering  of  education  in  some 
instances  gives  a  negro  the  idea  that  he  is  to  get  a 
living  without  work,  and  that  such  notions  would  not 
be  wholesome  if  prevailing  among  a  population  which 
must  do  manual  labour.  This  need  not  alarm  us, 
however;  for  it  is  not  an  unusual  thing  for  a  college 
education  to  give  a  white  boy  the  same  notion.  We 
do  not  limit  his  education  on  that  account.  In  the 
post-graduate  school  of  Hard  Knocks  he  always  finds 
out  —  and  no  less  surely  will  the  negro  boy  of  sim 
ilar  delusion  learn  —  especially  as  education  becomes 
more  and  more  a  possession  of  the  masses  and  not 
a  privilege  of  the  few  —  that  the  great  majority  of 
men,  whether  black  or  white,  lettered  or  unlettered, 
must  work,  and  work  with  their  hands. 

"  Let  me  add,  lest  I  be  misunderstood,  that  while 
I  believe  the  negro  race  as  a  race  will  be  hewers  of 
wood  and  drawers  of  water  for  generations  to  come, 
and  that  education  will  be  beneficial  to  them  as  a  toil 
ing  class,  I  am  not  of  those  who  believe  that  when 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          167 

by  education  you  spoil  a  negro  field-hand  you  have 
committed  a  crime.  I  have  no  sympathy  with  a  senti 
ment  that  would  confine  any  man  to  a  limited  though 
respectable  and  honourable  work  when  he  has  within 
him  the  aspiration  and  the  ability  to  serve  his  race 
and  his  time  in  broader  fields. 

"  Those,  in  a  nutshell,  Mr.  President,  are  the  pri 
mary  reasons  why  I  am  opposed  to  the  Wordyfellow 
movement,  and  shall  vote  for  this  bill.  The  secondary 
reasons  are  hardly  less  forceful. 

"  I  want  this  bill  passed  and  passed  quickly  in  order 
to  avoid  the  pernicious  incidental  effects  of  the  agita 
tion  of  this  question  among  my  people.  It  has  bred 
and  is  breeding  antagonisms  between  the  white  and 
black  races  in  the  South  such  as  did  not  result  from 
the  horrors  of  reconstruction  or  the  excitement  of 
negro  disfranchisement.  In  those  issues  the  negro 
truthfully  was  told  and  well  may  have  believed  that 
the  white  man  was  driven  to  protect  himself  against 
the  ignorance  and  depravity  of  the  black.  In  this  case, 
however,  the  negro  feels,  and  rightly,  that  the  white 
man  would  condemn  him  perpetually  to  that  ignorance 
and  depravity.  From  the  negro's  view-point  the  white 
man's  motive  is  now  what  it  never  was  before :  base, 
worse  than  selfish,  wantonly,  vindictively  cruel. 

"  Again  the  propagation  of  the  Wordyfellow  idea 
teaches  incidentally  that  in  this  democratic  country, 
where  by  the  very  nature  of  our  institutions  the  wel 
fare  of  each  is  the  welfare  of  all,  where  forsooth  a 
Christian  civilization  has  reached  its  highest  develop 
ment,  even  here,  the  strong  may  desert  the  weak  and 
leave  them  to  their  own  pitiful  devices  and  defences. 

"  It   teaches   also   the   doctrine  —  more  potent   for 


168          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

evil  —  that  the  government  may  take  note  of  racial 
classes  for  the  purpose  of  dealing  out  its  favours  and 
benefits  with  uneven  hands,  preferring  one  to  the 
other.  If  it  may  do  this  when  the  class  differences 
are  racial,  it  is  but  half  a  step  to  the  proposition  that 
it  may  do  so  when  the  differences  exist  whether  they 
be  racial  or  other.  It  takes  no  seer  to  see  that  after 
that  proposition  —  no,  with  that  proposition  —  comes 
the  deluge. 

"  Such,  Mr.  President,  are  some,  not  all,  of  the 
incidental  effects  of  the  propagation  of  the  Wordy- 
fellow  idea  which  clearly  and  with  vast  conservatism 
may  be  called  pernicious.  But  there  is  yet  another 
effect  which  will  be  inevitable  upon  the  adoption  of 
the  Wordyfellow  plan,  and  which  has  been  in  large 
measure  produced  already  by  the  discussion  of  it,  in 
the  light  of  which  deliberate  advocacy  of  the  Wordy- 
fellow  idea  fairly  may  be  called  insane;  and  that  is 
the  severing  of  all  bonds  of  sympathy  and  good-will 
between  the  races  when  the  negro  is  told  by  white 
men,  '  Here,  take  the  pitiful  portion  that  is  yours,  and 
go  work  out  your  own  bitter,  black  salvation,  alone 
—  if  you  can.' 

"  All  this  agitation,  all  our  concern,  is  predicted 
upon  the  deadly  menace  which  this  people,  numbering 
one-third  of  the  population  of  the  South  and  gathered 
in  many  sections  in  overwhelming  majorities,  is  to 
our  civic  and  industrial  happiness  and  progress :  and 
it  does  seem  the  sheerest  insanity  to  sever  the  bonds 
of  sympathy  and  helpfulness  which  now  bind  the  races 
together,  surrender  all  our  interest  and  right  to  con 
trol  in  the  method  of  the  negro's  uplifting,  and  leave 
him  to  develop  along  any  haphazard  or  dangerous 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  169 

lines  without  sympathy,  respect,  or  regard  for  us,  our 
ideas,  or  our  ideals. 

"  The  negro  has  been  enough  of  a  problem  and  a 
terror  to  my  people  with  all  our  ability  to  control  him 
through  his  ignorance,  his  fears,  his  affection  and  his 
respect  for  us.  We  have  been  careless  at  times  per 
haps  as  to  how  we  made  use  of  these  instruments  for 
his  management.  The  more  fools  we  if  we  now  throw 
away  his  affection  and  his  respect,  cut  loose  from  him 
entirely,  and  leave  him  to  develop  under  teachers  of 
his  own  race  who  with  distorted  vision  or  prejudiced 
heart  will  replace  his  ignorance  with  a  knowledge  at 
least  of  his  brute  strength,  and  cancel  his  fears  with 
hate. 

"  My  people  give  freely  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
dollars  yearly  to  the  degraded  of  other  lands  in  whom 
they  have  only  the  interest  which  Christians  have  in 
universal  humanity,  and  they  place  in  the  calendar  of 
the  saints  the  names  of  the  godly  men  and  women 
who  go  to  work  personally  to  uplift  the  heathen.  I 
do  not  think  that  in  their  cool  senses  their  Christian 
impulses,  to  which  is  added  the  motive  of  self-interest, 
will  permit  them  to  cut  off  their  contributions  to  and 
support  of  any  instrumentality  which  will  elevate  the 
degraded  in  their  own  land  whose  depravity  is  so 
pregnant  with  dire  possibilities  to  them.  I  pray  the 
day  to  come  when,  among  my  people,  it  shall  be 
thought  just  as  praiseworthy,  as  noble,  as  saintly  for 
a  Southern  white  man  to  give  his  life  and  energies 
to  the  personal  instruction,  uplifting  and  redemption 
of  the  negroes  in  America  as  of  the  negroes  in  Af 
rica  or  the  heathen  in  any  land. 

"  That  prayer,    Mr.    President,   which   is   sincerely 


170          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

from  my  heart,  brings  me  to  the  discussion  of  Presi 
dent  Phillips'  negro  policy.  I  shall  not  expect  to  see 
the  prayer  answered  so  long  as  the  Chief  Executive 
of  this  nation  shows  a  disposition  to  deal  so  care 
lessly,  so  arbitrarily,  with  such  cock-sure  flippancy, 
with  the  convictions,  prejudices  if  you  will,  of  the 
brave  and  generous  people  who  are  face  to  face  in 
their  race  problem  not  with  a  far-away  academic  ques 
tion  about  which  they  may  safely  speculate  and  the 
orize,  but  face  to  face  with  a  present,  tangible,  appal 
ling  issue  in  whose  solution  is  life  or  death  to  them. 

"  To  my  people  the  consequences  are  so  vital  that 
they  sometimes  are  led  perhaps  beyond  what  is  really 
necessary  in  the  way  of  defence,  —  for  any  sane  man 
prefers  to  be  doubly  guarded  against  death.  So  it 
has  been  that  while  they  are  not  favourable  to  the 
Wordyfellow  plan  they  have  been  stampeded  to  it 
by  the  Phillips  negro  luncheon. 

"  Let  me  explain  that  when  I  speak  of  the  Presi 
dent's  negro  policy  I  do  not  mean  to  include  his  ap 
pointments  of  negroes  to  office.  I  think  we  of  the 
South  have  in  these  matters  to  some  extent  confused 
the  issues,  and  proportionately  weakened  our  position 
before  the  outside  public.  Not  that  I  approve  of 
appointing  negroes  to  office  in  the  South,  for  I  do  not. 
I  think  the  weight  of  all  considerations  is  against  it. 
But  the  considerations  either  for  or  against  it  are  con 
siderations  of  expediency.  They  are  not  vital.  If  the 
President  wishes  to  vindicate  his  negro  appointments 
on  the  ground  that  his  appointees  are  of  his  party, 
the  best  men  of  his  party,  and  fairly  efficient,  —  let 
him.  Such  reasons  have  been  given  for  political  ap 
pointments  time  out  of  mind,  although  they  are  not 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  171 

conclusive  in  any  case  and  especially  not  in  the  matter 
of  negro  office-holding  in  the  South.  But  let  him  not 
go  into  cheap  heroics  such  as  were  indulged  in  by  a 
recent  negro  appointee,  who  tragically  exclaimed  that 
if  his  appointment  was  not  confirmed  his  race  would 
be  set  back  thirty  years! 

"  Such  rant  is  only  ridiculous.  Office-holding  is 
not  a  recognized  or  an  actual  instrumentality  for  up 
lifting  or  civilizing  a  people;  and  it  is  not  a  theory 
of  this  or  any  other  form  of  government  that  its  mis 
sion  or  method  is  to  uplift  its  citizenship,  white  or 
black,  by  making  place-holders  of  them.  It  is  not 
closing  any  legitimate  door  of  hope  to  negro  or  white 
man  to  refuse  him  a  Presidential  appointment.  The 
'  door  of  hope,'  whatever  else  it  may  be  to  white  or 
black,  is  not  the  door  to  a  government  office. 

"  The  real  basis  of  the  race  issue,  Mr.  President, 
has  nothing  to  do  with  politics  or  political  appoint 
ments,  with  office-getting  or  office-holding.  If  by 
some  trick  of  chance  a  negro  —  some  prodigy  lofty 
in  character  and  in  the  science  and  wisdom  of  state 
craft  —  were  President  of  this  nation  to-day,  and 
were  by  unanimous  consent  a  model  Executive,  the 
real  race  problem  would  not  be  affected  a  feather's 
weight.  The  world  must  understand  that  the  South 
ern  white  people  in  the  measures  they  have  taken  and 
will  take  to  protect  themselves  against  the  negro  are 
impelled  by  weightier  considerations  than  the  pre 
emption  of  the  dignities  or  emoluments  of  politics. 
It  is  true  that  they  have  taken  the  governments  of  the 
Southern  States  into  their  own  hands,  away  from 
negro  majorities  in  many  sections.  It  may  be  true 
that  in  order  to  do  this  they  have  nullified  provisions 


172          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

of  the  Federal  constitution.  But  they  have  done  so 
from  no  such  small  motive  as  a  desire  to  hold  public 
office. 

"  My  people  have  all  respect  for  the  wisdom  of  the 
makers  of  the  constitution,  who  framed  an  instrument 
perfectly  suited  to  the  conditions  as  they  existed  at 
the  time  and  continued  to  exist  for  eighty  years,  pre 
scribing  the  method  of  majority  rule  for  a  people  who 
were  of  an  approximately  equal  civic  intelligence  and 
virtue.  But  when  the  conditions  were  changed  and 
a  vast  horde  of  illiterate  and  —  in  the  hands  of  un 
scrupulous  leaders  —  vicious  voters  were  added  to  the 
electorate,  stern  necessity  forbade  them  longer  to  give 
a  sentimental  support  to  so-called  fundamental  prin 
ciples  in  the  constitution  and  permit  ignorance  to  rule 
intelligence  and  vice  to  rule  virtue. 

"  The  '  fundamental  principles '  in  that  constitu 
tion,  Mr.  President,  are  nothing  more  or  less  than 
wisely  conceived  policies  which  were  tried,  proved, 
and  found  good  under  the  conditions  for  which  they 
were  devised.  The  '  fundamental  principle '  upon 
which  the  race  problem  of  the  South  may  be  solved 
will  have  been  discovered  with  certainty  only  after 
a  solution  has  been  accomplished  by  the  conscientious 
effort  and  best  thought  of  Southern  white  men. 

"  And  they  will  solve  this  problem.  It  can  never 
be  settled,  of  course,  till  Southern  white  men  acquiesce 
in  its  settlement.  They  will  settle  it  in  righteousness 
and  will  accept  with  gratefulness  any  suggestion 
which  their  fellow  countrymen  have  to  offer  in  a  spirit 
of  sympathy  and  helpfulness.  But  it  may  as  well  be 
understood  that  any  such  exhibition  as  the  President's 
negro  luncheon,  which  affronts  the  universal  senti- 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          173 

ment  of  the  final  arbiters  of  this  question,  must  neces 
sarily  put  further  away  the  day  of  settlement.  The 
negro  problem  cannot  be  worked  out  by  any  simple 
little  rule  o'  thumb,  and  the  negro  will  always  be  the 
loser  by  any  such  melodramatic  display  of  super- 
assertive  backbone  and  misinformed  conscience. 

"  The  President  would  settle  this  matter  upon  a 
purely  theoretical  academic  basis,  this  matter  that  in 
its  practical  effects  will  not  touch  him  nor  his  family 
nor  his  section,  but  will  affect  vitally  the  happiness, 
the  lives,  the  destiny  of  a  chivalrous  people  whose 
ideas,  traditions,  sentiments  and  convictions  he  care 
lessly  ignores  or  impetuously  insults.  Such  exhibi 
tions  do  not  become  a  brave  man.  They  betoken, 
rather,  a  headstrong  man,  an  inconsiderate  man,  a 
thoughtless  man,  a  fanatical  man.  It  does  seem  that 
President  Phillips  would  have  learned  wisdom  from 
the  experience  of  his  illustrious  predecessor,  President 
Roosevelt,  who  did  somewhat  less  of  this  sort  of 
thing  once  —  and  only  once. 

"  Mr.  President,  it  has  been  repeatedly  said  that 
the  hostility  of  the  white  people  of  the  South  to  social 
intermingling  with  the  negro  race  is  an  instinct  —  a 
race  instinct.  I  do  not  so  consider  it,  —  and  for  two 
reasons :  first,  because  many  men  of  Anglo-Saxon 
blood  —  and  of  these  President  Phillips  is  the  most 
conspicuous  example  —  do  not  have  such  an  instinct ; 
second,  because  instinct  is  not  the  result  of  reason, 
while  the  Southern  white  man's  opposition  to  social 
recognition  of  the  negro  is  defensible  by  the  purest, 
most  dispassionate  reason.  These  convictions  are  so 
well  fixed  in  the  Southern  mind  that  they  may  appear 
to  be  instinctive  and  measurably  serve  the  purpose  of 


174          THE    CALL   OF   THE    SOUTH 

instinct;  but  the  vital  objections  of  my  people  to 
intermingling  socially  with  the  negro  are  not  founded 
in  any  race  antipathy,  whim,  pretence,  or  prejudice. 
They  are  grounded  in  the  clearest  common  sense,  and 
as  such  only  do  I  care  to  present  or  defend  them. 

"  In  face  of  the  disaster  to  be  averted,  I  could  wish 
that  it  were  an  instinct;  for  instinct  does  not  fail  in 
a  crisis.  But  men  are  more  than  beasts :  the  power 
to  rise  is  given  to  them  conditioned  upon  the  chance 
to  fall.  So  in  this  race  matter:  instinct  does  not  for 
bid  a  white  man  to  marry  a  black  woman;  instinct 
—  more's  the  horror !  —  does  not  forbid  a  white 
woman  to  wed  a  negro  man.  For  this  reason  it  is 
-  for  the  very  lack  of  a  race  instinct  is  it  —  that 
the  social  intermingling  of  the  white  and  black  races, 
as  advocated  and  practised  by  President  Phillips, 
would  inevitably  bring  to  pass  an  amalgamation  of 
the  races  with  all  its  foul  brood  of  evils. 

"  President  Phillips,  living  in  a  section  of  the  coun 
try  where  negroes  are  few  —  especially  such  as  are 
of  sufficient  intelligence  to  be  interesting  to  a  man  of 
his  attainments  —  does  not  dream  of  amalgamation. 
I  would  not  insult  him  by  assuming  such  a  thing. 
And  yet,  upon  a  superficial  estimate  of  conditions  in 
the  South  he  gives  us  this  impulsive  exhibition  of 
what  in  one  of  his  high  official  position  is  criminal 
carelessness. 

"  The  positive  element  of  crime  in  it  is  not  in  the 
affront  which  a  Presidential  negro  luncheon  puts  upon 
Southern  sentiment,  but  in  the  suggestion  to  Southern 
and  Northern  people  alike  that  a  social  intermingling 
of  the  races  —  which  means  amalgamation,  however 
blind  he  may  be  to  the  fact  —  is  the  solution  of  the 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          175 

race  problem.  The  crime  would  be  complete  in  all 
its  horror  if  the  South,  if  the  nation,  should  follow 
his  lead  and  achieve  the  logical  result  of  his  teaching. 

"  From  long  and  intimate  acquaintance  with  the 
negro's  character,  my  people  know  that  the  Phillips 
negro  luncheon  stimulates  not  the  negro's  ambition 
and  endeavour  to  improve  himself  as  it  tickles  and 
arouses  his  vanity.  When  the  ordinary  darkey  hears 
of  it  he  thinks  it  not  a  recognition  of  the  superior 
abilities  of  Bishop  Martin  and  Doctor  Woods,  but  a 
social  recognition  of  the  negro  race;  and  forthwith 
deems  himself  the  equal  of  the  white  man  and  desires 
unutterable  things.  And  not  without  reason. 

"  The  black  people  appreciate  what  the  President's 
act  means  for  them.  They  do  not  misinterpret  its 
tendency.  A  prominent  negro  said  in  a  recent  mass 
meeting  in  Richmond :  '  No  two  peoples  having  the 
same  religion  and  speaking  the  same  tongue,  living 
together,  have  ever  been  kept  apart.  This  is  well 
known  and  is  one  of  the  reasons  why  the  dominant 
race  is  crushing  out  the  strength  of  the  negro  in  the 
South.  I  am  afraid  we  are  anarchistic  and  I  give 
warning  that  if  this  oppression  in  the  South  continues 
the  negro  must  resort  to  the  torch  and  the  sword,  and 
that  the  Southland  will  become  a  land  of  blood  and 
desolation.' 

"  This  inflammatory  utterance  indicates  the  inter 
pretation  put  by  negroes  upon  President  Phillips' 
open-dining-room-door  policy,  and  the  nature  of  the 
hopes  and  aspirations  it  arouses  in  the  black  man's 
heart.  And  the  serious  thing  is  the  element  of  truth 
in  the  negro's  erroneous  statement.  It  is  true  as 
gospel  that  no  two  races  of  people,  living  together, 


176          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

have  ever  intermingled  socially  without  amalgama 
ting1.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  cite  evidence  of  that 
fact  or  to  give  the  reasons  underlying  it.  It  might 
be  taken  as  axiomatic  that  social  intermingling  means 
amalgamation. 

"If  men  and  women  were  attracted  to  each  other 
and  loved  and  mated  because  of  equal  endowments 
of  virtue,  or  intelligence,  or  beauty,  or  upon  any  basis 
of  similar  accomplishments,  tastes,  or  mental,  moral 
or  physical  excellences,  then  a  gulf-stream  of  Anglo- 
Saxon  blood  might  flow  unmixed  and  pure  through  a 
sea  of  social  contact  with  the  negro  race;  but  until 
love  and  marriage  are  placed  among  the  exact  sci 
ences,  social  intermingling  of  races  will  ever  result 
as  it  ever  has  resulted :  in  the  general  admixture  of 
racial  bloods. 

"  When  racial  barriers  are  broken  down  and  it  is 
proper  for  negroes  and  whites  to  associate  freely  and 
intimately,  when  you  —  white  men  —  receive  negroes 
on  a  plane  of  social  equality,  your  women  will  marry 
them,  your  sons  will  take  them  to  wife.  Shall  you 
say  to  your  daughter  of  the  negro  whom  you  receive 
in  your  home :  '  He  is  an  excellent  man  but  —  do 
not  marry  him '  ?  Shall  you  say  to  your  son  enam 
oured  of  a  quadroon :  '  She  is  a  very  worthy  young 
woman  and  an  ornament  to  our  circle  of  friends,  but 
—  I  have  chosen  another  wife  for  you  '  ?  When  did 
such  considerations  ever  guide  or  curb  the  fancy  of 
the  youthful  heart  or  diminish  the  travel  to  Gretna 
Green?  No,  the  line  never  has  been  drawn  between 
free  social  intercourse  and  intermarriage ;  and  while 
the  Southern  people  believe  they  could  draw  that  line 
if  any  people  could,  they  do  not  propose  to  make  any 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          177 

reckless  experiments  where  all  is  to  be  lost  and  noth 
ing  gained. 

"  A  president  of  one  of  our  great  universities  is 
quoted  as  saying :  '  The  Southern  white  sees  a  race 
danger  in  eating  at  the  same  table  with  a  negro;  he 
sees  in  being  the  host  or  the  guest  of  a  negro  an  act 
of  race  infidelity.  The  Northern  white  sees  nothing 
of  the  kind.  The  race  danger  does  not  enter  into  his 
thoughts  at  all.  To  be  the  host  or  the  guest  of  a 
negro,  a  Mexican  or  a  Japanese  would  be  for  him 
simply  a  matter  of  present  pleasure,  convenience  or 
courtesy.  It  would  never  occur  to  him  that  such  an 
act  could  possibly  harm  his  own  race.  His  pride  of 
race  does  not  permit  him  to  entertain  such  an  idea. 
This  is  a  significant  difference  between  Northern 
white  and  Southern  white.' 

"  In  noting  significant  differences  between  North 
ern  white  and  Southern  white  this  authority  must 
have  been  advertent  to  the  fact  that  the  pride  of  race 
of  his  '  Northern  white  '  does  not  prevent  them  from 
furnishing  the  overwhelming  majority  of  interracial 
marriages  with  negroes,  as  well  as  with  Chinese,  Jap 
anese  and  every  other  alien  race  —  this,  too,  with  a 
very  small  negro  population.  If  the  negroes  were 
proportionately  as  numerous  in  the  North  as  in  the 
South  and  such  sentiments  prevailed,  how  long,  with 
interracial  marriages  increased  in  numbers  in  propor 
tion  to  opportunity,  would  there  be  an  Anglo-Saxon 
'Northern  white'  to  have  a  pride  of  race?  If  with 
these  facts  before  his  eyes  the  distinguished  educator 
sees  no  race  danger  in  the  social  mingling  of  white 
and  black  people,  it  easily  may  be  inferred  that  he 
sees  no  objection  to  amalgamation. 


178          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

'  The  Southern  white  man  does  see  a  race  danger 
in  these  social  amenities,  Mr.  President;  for  he  can 
not  view  amalgamation  or  the  faintest  prospect  of 
it  with  any  sentiment  save  horror :  and  he  fortifies 
himself  against  that  danger  not  only  with  the  peculiar 
pride  of  race  —  of  which  he  has  a  comfortable  supply 
—  but  with  every  expedient  suggested  by  his  common 
sense,  his  experience,  and  by  the  horrible  example 
which  that  distinguished  educator's  '  Northern  white ' 
has  furnished  him. 

"  In  providing  against  this  danger  my  people  are 
moved  from  without  by  the  sight  of  no  occasional 
negro  such  as  at  odd  times  crosses  this  New  Eng- 
lander's  vision,  nor  from  within  by  any  unreasonable 
or  jealous  hatred  of  the  negro  such  as  has  character 
ized  certain  '  Northern  whites  '  from  the  time  they 
burned  negro  orphan  asylums  in  resentment  at  being 
drafted  to  fight  their  country's  battles  down  to  this 
good  day  when  they  mob  a  negro  for  trying  to  do  an 
honest  day's  work.  No!  the  Southern  white  man  is 
driven  to  his  defences  by  a  sentiment  void  of  offence 
toward  the  negro,  and  by  the  daily  impending  spec 
tacle  of  black,  half-barbarous  hosts  who  menace  the 
Anglo-Saxon  civilization  of  the  South  and  of  the 
nation. 

"  President  Phillips  has  modestly  borrowed  from 
one  of  his  predecessors  words  with  which  to  defend 
his  social  amenities  to  negroes.  Fie  quotes  and  says 
he  would  '  bow  his  head  in  shame  '  were  he  '  by  word 
or  deed  to  add  anything  to  the  misery  of  the  awful 
isolation  of  the  negroes  who  have  risen  above  their 
race.'  Two  things  may  be  said  of  that,  Mr.  Presi 
dent  :  first,  isolation  has  been  the  price  of  leadership 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  179 

in  all  ages,  and  the  negroes  who  are  the  pioneers  of 
their  race  in  their  long  and  painful  journey  upward 
may  not  hope  to  escape  it :  second,  the  President's 
borrowed  sentimental  reason  cuts  the  ground  from 
under  his  feet,  for  that  forcible  Rooseveltian  phrase, 
'  the  misery  of  the  awful  isolation  of  black  men  who 
have  risen  above  their  race/  concedes  the  premises  on 
which  the  South 's  contention  is  based,  since  it  admits 
there  is  such  a  great  gulf  between  the  negro  race  and 
the  risen  negro  that  his  isolation  fitly  may  be  described 
in  the  words  '  misery,'  '  awful.'  It  is  a  peculiar  order 
of  Executive  intellect  and  sensibility  that  can  have 
such  a  keen  sense  of  the  misery  which  association 
with  the  lowly  of  his  own  race  brings  to  an  educated 
negro  —  who  cannot  in  the  very  nature  of  things  have 
put  off  all  his  hereditary  deficiencies  and  tastes  in  a 
generation ;  and  that  yet  seems  not  to  be  touched  with 
any  sense  of  the  unspeakable  misery  such  association 
and  its  inevitable  consequences  would  have  for  my 
people  —  his  Anglo-Saxon  brethren  —  who,  if  there 
be  any  virtue  in  the  refining  processes  of  civilization, 
any  redemptive  power  in  the  Christian  religion,  any 
progression  in  the  purposes  of  God  in  the  earth,  are 
a  thousand  years  ahead  of  the  negro  —  any  negro  — 
in  every  racial  excellence. 

"  Oh,  but,  you  say,   President   Phillips  means   for 
us  to  associate  only  with  those  who  are  worthy,  those 

who  have   '  risen.'      Even   that   would  be    fatal,    Mr. 

• 

President.  Beyond  the  truth  already  stated  that  con 
siderations  of  merit  will  be  forgotten  and  brushed 
aside  if  the  social  racial  barrier  is  broken  down  at  any 
point,  and  that  social  intermingling  inevitably  leads 
to  intermarriage,  there  is  a  greater  fact,  a  deeper 


180          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

truth,  underlying  this  question.  That  fact,  that  truth, 
is  that  in  estimating  the  result  of  mixing  racial  bloods 
not  the  man  only  and  his  personal  accomplishments 
or  individual  culture  must  be  considered,  but  his  he 
redity,  his  race  peculiarities  and  proclivities,  every  ele 
ment  that  has  gone  into  his  blood. 

"  An  occasional  isolated  negro  may  have  broken 
the  shackles  of  ignorance,  measurably  and  admirably 
brought  under  control  the  half-savage  passions  of  his 
nature,  acquired  palpable  elegances  of  person  and 
manner,  and  taken  on  largely  the  indefinable  graces 
of  culture:  yet  beneath  all  this  creditable  but  thin 
veneer  of  civilization  there  slumber  in  his  blood  the 
primitive  passions  and  propensities  of  his  immediate 
ancestors,  which  are  transmitted  through  him  as  latent 
forces  of  evil  to  burst  out  in  his  children  and  grand 
children  in  answer  to  the  call  of  the  wild.  A  man  is 
not  made  in  one  generation  or  two.  Every  man  gets 
the  few  ruling  passions  of  his  life  from  the  number 
less  endowments  of  a  hundred  progenitors,  and  these 
few  show  out,  while  scores  of  others  run  so  deep  in 
his  blood  that  they  never  crop  out  in  his  deeds  but 
pass  quietly  on  as  static  forces  of  good  or  evil  to  his 
children  and  their  children  before  rising  to  the  surface 
as  dynamics  in  life  and  character. 

"  A  Northern  gentlewoman  in  a  recent  magazine 
article,  defending  her  willingness  to  offer  social  cour 
tesies  to  a  prominent  negro,  speaks  of  him  as  one  '  of 
whom  an  exquisite  woman  once  said  he  has  the  soul 
of  a  Christian,  the  heart  of  a  gentleman,  and  the  eyes 
of  the  jungle/  That  illustrates  the  idea  perfectly, 
Mr.  President,  —  the  eyes  of  the  jungle.  Despite  the 
fact  that  it  is  easier  to  breed  up  physical  than  tem- 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  181 

peramental  qualities  in  man  or  beast,  easier  to  breed 
out  physical  than  mental  or  moral  or  spiritual  blood- 
traits,  this  negro,  with  all  his  culture,  with  a  large 
mixture  of  white  blood  in  his  veins,  has  yet  in  his 
very  face  that  sinister  mark  —  the  eyes  of  the  jungle: 
and  in  his  blood  who  shall  say  what  jungle  passions, 
predilections  and  impulses,  nobly  and  hardly  held  in 
check,  that  hark  back  to  the  African  wilds  from  which 
they  are  so  lately  transplanted. 

"  A  negro  —  any  primitive  being  —  may  be  devel 
oped  mentally  in  one  or  two  generations  to  the  point 
where  a  certain  polish  has  been  put  upon  his  mind 
and  upon  his  manners ;  his  purposes  may  be  gathered 
and  set  toward  the  goal  of  final  good;  the  whole 
trend  of  his  life  may  be  set  upward:  but  there  is  yet 
between  his  new  purposes  and  the  savagery  of  the 
primitive  man  in  him  a  far  thinner  bulwark  of  hered 
ity  than  protects  a  white  man  from  the  elemental  brute 
and  animal  forces  of  his  nature.  A  number  of  edu 
cated  negroes  in  this  country  to-day  are  superior  in 
culture  of  mind  and  in  personal  morals  to  many  white 
men,  but  even  these  individual  shining  lights  of  the 
negro  race  do  not  possess  the  power  to  endow  their 
offspring  so  favourably  as  white  men  of  less  polish 
but  longer  seasoned  hereditary  strength  of  mental  and 
moral  fibre. 

"  It  always  offends  a  proper  sense  of  decency  to 
hear  the  suggestion  that  the  negro  may  be  bred  up 
by  crossing  his  blood  with  that  of  white  men,  —  for 
the  obvious  reason  that  with  our  ideas  of  morals  the 
most  common  principles  of  the  breeder's  art  cannot 
be  applied  to  the  problem:  but  one  single  fact  which 
eliminates  such  cold-blooded  animal  methods  from 


182          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

our  consideration  is  that  when  animals  are  cross-bred 
it  is  in  the  hope  and  for  the  purpose  of  combining 
mutually  supplementary  elements  of  strength  and  of 
eliminating  supplementary  weaknesses;  while  in  this 
race  matter  the  Anglo-Saxon  is  the  superior  of  the 
negro  in  every  racial  characteristic  —  in  physical 
strength  and  grace,  in  mental  gifts  and  forces,  and 
in  spiritual  excellence.  Even  if  amalgamation  did  the 
very  best  that  could  be  expected  of  it,  it  offers  to  the 
world  nothing  and  to  the  white  man  less  than  noth 
ing:  for  it  would  be  a  compromise,  a  striking  of  an 
average,  by  which  naught  is  added  to  the  total :  it 
would  pull  down  the  strong  to  upraise  the  weak,  de 
grade  the  superior  to  uplift  the  inferior :  it  would  be 
a  levelling  process,  not  a  method  of  progress.  And 
yet  amalgamation  does  not  even  that  much,  for  it 
does  not  make  an  average-thick,  even-thick  retaining 
wall  of  culture  between  the  hybrid  product  and  the 
weaknesses  of  his  mottled  ancestry.  There  are  al 
ways  blow-holes  in  this  mongrel  culture,  for  heredity 
does  not  work  by  averages.  It  is  an  elusive  combina 
tion  of  forces  whose  eccentricities  and  resultants  can 
not  be  formulated,  calculated,  or  fore-determined.  It 
is  certain  only  that  by  no  mere  manipulation  of  it 
can  the  slightest  addition  be  made  to  the  stock  of  an 
cestral  virtues.  Only  slow  processes  working  in  each 
individual  through  generation  after  generation  can 
add  increments  of  strength  to  racial  fibre. 

'  Therefore,  if  the  negro  will  insist  upon  some  race 
manipulation  in  order  to  raise  the  average  of  intelli 
gence,  thrift  and  morality  in  our  national  citizenship, 
the  only  safe  and  sane  method  is  to  take  measures  to 
restrict  the  increase  of  the  negro  race  and  let  it  die 


THE  CALL  OF  THE  SOUTH    183 

out  like  the  Indian.  But,  you  scream,  that  would  be 
to  suggest  the  annihilation  of  a  race  God  has  put  here 
for  some  wise  purpose !  Even  so :  but  amalgamation 
would  no  less  surely  annihilate  the  race  —  two  races 
—  and  fly  in  the  face  of  a  Providence  that  has  segre 
gated  all  races  with  no  less  distinctness  of  purpose, 
and  so  far  has  visited  with  disaster  all  attempts  to 
violate  that  segregation. 

"  Now,  Mr.  President,  what  is  the  immediate  past 
history,  status  and  condition  in  Africa  and  America 
of  this  race  with  which  Southern  white  men  are  asked 
to  mingle  socially?  What  are  the  racial  endowments 
of  these  risen  negroes  whom  we  are  urged  by  lofty 
example  to  invite  into  our  drawing-rooms  upon  terms 
of  broadest  equality  —  for  upon  other  terms  would 
be  a  mockery  —  as  eligible  associates,  companions, 
suitors,  husbands  for  our  sisters  and  daughters  ?  — 
for  a  sensible  father  or  brother  does  not  admit  white 
men  to  his  home  on  any  other  basis.  Of  what  essen 
tial  racial  elements  and  sources  is  the  negro,  risen  and 
unrisen  alike? 

"  Let  answer  the  scientists  and  explorers,  mission 
aries  and  travellers,  —  a  long  list  of  them,  English, 
French,  German,  stretching  all  the  way  back  a  hun 
dred  years  before  there  was  a  negro  problem  in  the 
South.  I  quote  verbatim,  as  nearly  as  the  form  will 
permit,  their  very  words  and  phrases.  Listen. 

"  The  negro  in  Africa  was,  and  is  yet,  in  largest 
measure  '  Without  law  except  in  its  very  crudest 
form  '  —  'no  law  at  all  as  we  conceive  it '  •  - '  in 
densest  savage  ignorance  '  •  -  '  no  writing,  no  litera 
ture,  no  arts,  no  sciences  '  *  some  development  of 
perceptive  and  imitative  faculties  and  of  memory,  but 


184          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

little  of  the  higher  faculties  of  abstract  reasoning '  — 
'  in  temperament  intensely  emotional,  fitful,  passionate, 
cruel '  —  '  without  self-control  in  emotional  crises, 
callously  indifferent  to  suffering  in  others,  easily 
aroused  to  ferocity  by  sight  of  blood  or  under  great 
fear  '  •  -  '  particularly  deficient  in  strength  of  will, 
stability  of  purpose  and  staying  power  '  •  -  '  dominated 
by  impulse,  void  of  foresight,  unable  to  realize  the 
future  or  restrain  present  desire  '  — '  indolent,  lazy, 
improvident,  neglectful,  happy-go-lucky,  innately 
averse  to  labour  or  to  care  '  —  '  given  to  uncleanness  ' 

—  '  an  eater  of  snakes  and  snails,  cannibal,  eating  his 
own  dead  '    - '  vilely  superstitious,  a  maker  of  human 
sacrifices,    charm-wearing,    fetich-worshipping  '  —  'of 
a    religion    grossly    anthropomorphic,    explaining    all 
natural  phenomena  by  a  reference  to  evil  spirits  '  — 
'  his  religion  has  no  connection  with  morality,  nothing 
to  do  with  man's  relation  to  man  '  —  '  thieving  his 
beloved  pastime,  deception  more  common  than  theft ' 

—  *  national  character  strongly  marked  by  duplicity  ' 
— • '  lying  habitually  and  thinking  lying  an  enviable 
accomplishment '  —  'a  more  thorough  and  unhesitat 
ing  liar  than  one  of  these  negroes  is  not  to  be  found 
anywhere  '  —  '  cruelly   obliges   his   women    to   work  ' 

—  '  sensual,    polygamous,    unchaste  '    -  '  buying    and 
selling  his  women  '  —  '  valuing  his  daughter's  virgin 
ity  solely  as  a  marketable  commodity  '  —  '  accounting 
adultery  simply  as  a  trespass  upon  a  husband's  prop 
erty  rights,  and  seduction  and  rape  as  a  violence  only 
to  parent's  property  in  daughters  as  destroying  their 
marketable  value  '  —  '  wifehood  is  but  an  enslavement 
to  the  husband's  will '  —  'no  conception  of  chastity 
as  a  virtue  '  —  'of  strong  sexual  passions  '  —  'a  de- 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  185 

voted  worshipper  at  the  shrine  of  his  phallic  gods  ' 
— '  sexual  instincts  dominate  even  the  most  public 
festivals,  and  public  dances  exhibit  all  degrees  of  sex 
suggestion.' 

"  Those  in  short,  Mr.  President,  are  some  of  the 
horrible  details  of  the  bestial  degradation  of  the  west- 
coast  Africans,  from  whom  our  slave-marts  were  re 
cruited  almost  to  the  time  of  the  Civil  War,  and  who, 
says  Keane,  are  '  the  very  worst  sweepings  of  the  Su 
danese  plateau,'  and,  Ellis  says,  are  '  the  dregs  and 
offscourings  of  Africa.' 

"  Such  was  the  negro  in  Africa.  What  he  is  in 
America,  only  my  people  know.  He  has  been  the 
gainer  at  all  points,  the  loser  at  none,  because  of  his 
enforced  residence  here  and  his  bondage  to  Southern 
white  men :  and  yet  that  awful  picture  of  the  negro 
in  .Africa  is  so  startlingly  familiar  to  one  who  has 
spent  his  life  in  the  South  that  he  examines  it  closely 
with  something  of  fear. 

"  He  finds  the  colouring  too  vividly  heavy  and  some 
details  untrue  for  a  picture  of  the  negro  in  America 
to-day:  but  the  negro  as  the  Southern  white  man 
knows  him  is  too  alarmingly  alike,  too  closely  akin  to, 
that  African  progenitor.  He  has  advanced  —  yes ! 
but  just  how  much,  and  just  how  little,  from  out  the 
shadow  of  that  awful  category  of  horrors,  my  people 
know. 

"  They  know  that  he  has  but  just  emerged  from 
those  depths,  that  those  bestial  racial  traits  held  in 
check  by  the  white  man's  law  have  only  well  begun 
to  be  refined  by  a  change  of  environment  and  the  slow 
processes  of  heredity :  and  yet  we,  white  men  of  the 
South,  are  in  a  way  advised  to  treat  as  our  social 


186          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

equals  certain  immediate  heirs  to  such  a  blood  inherit 
ance  because,  forsooth,  they  have  risen. 

"  We  resent  bitterly  the  insulting  suggestion,  how 
ever  high  or  respectable  or  official  its  source :  and  we 
call  upon  you,  white  men  of  the  North,  to  warn  you 
against  appeals  for  social  recognition  as  a  balm  for 
'  the  misery  of  the  awful  isolation  of  black  men  who 
have  risen  above  their  race.'  When  the  blood  of  your 
daughter  or  your  son  is  mixed  with  that  of  one  of  this 
race,  however  risen,  redolent  of  newly  applied  polish 
or  bewrapped  with  a  fresh  culture,  how  shall  sickly 
sentimentalities  solace  your  shame  if  in  the  blood  of 
your  mulatto  grandchild  the  vigorous  red  jungle  cor 
puscles  of  some  savage  ancestor  shall  overmatch  your 
more  gentle  endowment,  and  under  your  name  and 
in  a  face  and  form  perhaps  where  a  world  may  see 
your  very  image  in  darker  hue  there  shall  be  disported 
primitive  appetites,  propensities,  passions  fit  only  to 
endow  an  Ashanti  warrior  or  grace  the  orgies  of  an 
African  bacchanalia?  In  Heaven's  name  think  to  the 
bottom  of  this  question!  —  and  think  now!  Await 
not  the  day  '  when  your  fear  cometh  as  desolation, 
and  your  destruction  cometh  as  a  whirlwind;  when 
distress  and  anguish  cometh  upon  you.'  Do  not  be 
distracted  by  considerations  that  are  superficial  and 
incidental  —  such  for  example  as  the  negro's  record 
for  criminal  assaults  upon  women.  The  crime  of  rape 
will  be  abated  by  some  means,  but  long  after  that  must 
the  negro  develop  before  he  loses  his  primal  jungle 
habit  of  regarding  woman  as  a  personal  possession.  It 
is  a  matter  of  attitude  and  not  of  assault :  and  as  in 
his  fundamental  attitude  toward  women,  so  in  every 
racial  characteristic  the  superiority  of  the  white  man 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  187 

is  blood  deep,  generations  old,  ingrained,  inherent, 
essential. 

"  Knowing  this,  my  people  despise  President 
Phillips'  social  amenities  to  negroes  of  high  degree. 
They  do  not  fear  the  issue ;  but  what  insults  and  out 
rages  them  is  that  a  personage  in  the  highest  official 
position,  by  an  act  in  itself  impulsive,  empty,  and 
futile,  should  put  desires  and  hopes  of  miscegenation 
into  the  minds  and  hearts  of  the  inflammable,  mutter 
ing,  passionate  black  masses  of  the  South.  Standing 
themselves  ever  in  the  shadow  of  dire  calamity  which 
they  are  facing  and  must  face  for  long  years  to  come 
as  they  painfully  work  out  a  righteous  and  practical 
solution  of  their  problem,  my  people  cry  out  to  you, 
oh,  white  men  of  the  North,  of  the  insidious  danger  in 
these  sentimental  social  practices  of  an  exuberant  Ex 
ecutive;  and  we  tell  you  that,  however  well  or  ill  you 
may  guard  the  purity  and  integrity  of  your  race,  we 
will  stand  fast.  Whatever  else  may  or  may  not  be 
true,  we  will  never  acknowledge  any  equality  on  the 
negro's  side  that  does  not  overtake  the  white  race  in 
its  advancing  civilization,  and  we  will  certainly  not 
submit  to  an  equality  produced  by  degrading  the  white 
race  to  or  toward  the  negro's  level.  We  will  not  make 
with  the  negro  a  common  treasure  of  our  Anglo- 
Saxon  blood  by  putting  it  in  hotch-pot  with  his  in  a 
mongrel  breed. 

"  The  Anglo-Saxon  has  blazed  the  way  of  civiliza 
tion  for  a  world  to  follow  in :  but  if  he,  the  torch- 
bearer,  the  pioneer,  goes  back  to  join  hands  with  the 
tribes  who  are  following  afar  his  torch  and  trail,  then 
the  progression  of  civilization  and  of  character  must 
not  only  stop  but  must  actually  recede  for  him  to  effect 


188 

a  juncture  with  the  black  and  backward  race  in  the 
blood  of  a  hybrid  progeny.  There  the  fine  edge 
would  be  taken  off  every  laudable  characteristic  of  the 
white  man.  There  the  splendid  Anglo-Saxon  spirit  of 
leadership  and  initiative  would  be  neutralized  by  the 
sluggish  blood  of  the  Ethiop  race.  There  the  Anglo- 
Saxon's  fine  energies  and  clear  sensibilities  would  be 
deadened  and  muddled  by  the  infusion  of  this  soporific 
into  his  veins.  There  vile,  unknown,  ancestral  im 
pulses,  the  untamed  passions  of  a  barbarous  blood, 
would  be  planted  in  the  Anglo-Saxon's  very  heart. 

"  You  may  believe  that  in  the  dim  beginning  God 
by  imperial  decree  set  the  dividing  line  between  these 
races ;  or,  less  orthodox  and  more  coldly  scientific, 
you  may  know  that  Nature,  impartial  mother  of  men, 
giving  her  white  and  black  sons  equal  endowment  and 
an  even  start  in  body,  mind  and  spirit,  since  has  stood, 
in  unerring  wisdom  still  impartial,  to  watch  the  white 
bound  away  from  the  black  in  his  rush  toward  that 
perfection  of  mind,  of  heart,  of  character,  which  she 
has  set  as  goal  for  the  striving  of  her  children.  From 
whichever  view-point  you  look  upon  the  age-long 
history  of  men  and  the  age-long  lead  of  white  men 
over  their  black  brothers,  —  whether  evolutionist  or 
traditionist,  scientist  or  mystic,  you  offer  violence  to 
your  own  particular  deity,  be  it  God  or  Nature,  when 
in  their  present  measureless  inequality  of  development 
you  by  amalgamation  would  beat  back  the  white  into 
the  lagging  footsteps  and  gross  animalism  of  the 
black. 

"  Menacing  thus  the  effectiveness  and  integrity  of  a 
race  which  is  the  pathfinder  for  the  progress  of  a 
world  of  men,  the  danger  is  not  only  a  race  danger, 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  189 

but  a  danger  to  universal  civilization ;  and  the  pre- 
ventative  is  a  social  separation  of  the  white  and  black 
races  in  America  from  the  lowest  to  the  highest,  —  at 
least,  yes  in  all  reason,  at  the  dictate  of  the  plainest 
common  sense,  at  least,  if  so  be,  till  the  black  becomes 
approximately  equal  to  the  white  in  racial  excellence. 
After  which  let  the  ethnologists  take  the  question  and 
give  us  the  answer  of  science  as  to  the  advisability  of 
mixing  racial  bloods. 


Naturally  you  ask  me  when  the  time  of  equality 
in  racial  excellence  will  come.  I  answer  that  I  com 
mit  myself  unreservedly  to  the  support  of  every 
means  used  for  the  negro's  uplifting;  I  admit  - 
nay  more,  I  contend  —  that  we  white  men  cannot 
be  dogs  in  the  manger  with  civilization;  we  cannot 
as  a  Christian  people  even  hope  that  the  negro 
race  may  not  come  up  to  our  level,  nor  can  there 
be  any  reason  why  we  should  refuse  to  acknowledge 
that  race  as  our  equal  if  it  shall  indeed  become  our 
equal.  And  yet,  while  I  would  not  in  puny  wisdom 
presume  to  foretell  the  purposes  of  God  in  the  earth, 
nor  to  set  bounds  to  the  efficacy  of  his  unspeakable 
redemption,  nor  to  appoint  the  places  of  white,  black, 
yellow,  red  or  brown  men  in  the  pageantry  of 
'  that  far-off  divine  event  toward  which  the  whole 
creation  moves '  •  -  yet,  I  say,  with  carefully  ac 
quired  information  of  the  negro's  history  and  habits 
in  Africa,  and  with  an  intimate  knowledge  of  his 
present  status  and  rate  of  progress  toward  civilization 
in  America,  I  tell  you  frankly  that  the  day  of  his  ap 
proximate  equality  in  racial  excellence  with  the  white 
man  is  beyond  the  furthest  reach  of  my  vision  into  the 
future." 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

SENATOR  KILLAM  was  against  the  bill  tooth  and 
nail,  —  and  he  was  against  Rutledge.  He  obtained 
the  floor  and  began  to  speak  in  a  desultory  but  pic 
turesque  fashion  in  ridicule  of  some  of  the  junior 
Senator's  new-fangled  heresies  almost  before  Rut- 
ledge  had  caught  his  breath,  and  his  vitriolic  opening 
stayed  the  steps  of  many  who  in  courtesy  would  have 
gone  over  to  Rutledge's  seat  to  felicitate  him  upon 
his  maiden  effort.  Mr.  Killam  presented  his  felicita 
tions  openly  and  with  such  a  mixture  of  sarcasm,  irony 
and  some  seeming  admiration  that  his  colleague  was 
puzzled.  When  Mr.  Killam  talked  his  dearest  enemy 
would  stop  to  listen.  Rutledge,  tired  and  blown, 
leaned  back  in  his  chair  to  hear  him  thunder. 

As  he  sank  back  into  a  comfortable  pose  he  caught 
sight  for  the  first  time  of  Lola  DeVale  and  Elise 
Phillips  in  the  gallery.  They  had  heard  his  speech 
from  start  to  finish,  —  and  were  differently  affected 
by  it.  Lola  was  more  impressed  with  the  Senator's 
manner  than  by  his  words. 

"  Senator  Rutledge  verily  believes  all  that  he  says 
against  the  negroes,"  she  had  commented;  "  but  surely 
they  are  not  so  black  as  he  paints  them.  Papa  says 
that  it  is  impossible  for  a  Southern  man  to  judge  the 
negro  fairly." 

Elise  did  not  reply.  She  was  filled  with  revulsion 
190 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          191 

amounting  almost  to  nausea,  and  her  temper  was  on 
edge.  As  her  father's  daughter,  the  personal  element 
was  unbearably  irritating  to  her.  She  resented  the 
entire  situation  and  discussion.  She  had  not  known 
what  was  under  consideration,  nor  who  \vas  to 
speak,  and  she  would  have  left  the  gallery  if  she  had 
not  felt  that  it  would  be  beating  a  retreat.  She  also 
had  a  desire  to  see  whether  Evans  had  the  impudence 
to  say  what  he  thought  right  in  her  face. 

In  her  stay  in  the  South  she  had  seen  a  very  dis 
reputable  class  of  negroes,  and  under  the  spell  of  Rut- 
ledge's  words  her  antipathies  were  over-excited  to 
such  a  degree  that  she  was  faint  with  disgust.  On  the 
other  hand  she  was  full  of  barely  suppressed  anger. 
Rutledge  smiled  a  salutation  to  the  young  women ; 
and  though  Elise  was  looking  straight  at  him  she  did 
not  join  Lola  in  her  gracious  acknowledgment. 

"Don't  you  see  Mr.  Rutledge,  Elise?  He  waits 
for  your  smile  like  a  dog  for  a  bone." 

"  I  wish  that  man  were  dead,"  Elise  declared. 

Lola  raised  her  eyebrows  and  scanned  the  profile 
of  her  friend  for  some  moments,  and  there  came  into 
her  mind  an  idea  that  appeared  to  be  worth  some 
thinking  over.  .  .  . 

If  Senator  Rutledge  was  distasteful  to  her,  Elise 
had  little  cause  to  complain  of  him :  for  seldom  had 
any  of  the  scores  of  young  fellows  who  followed  in 
her  train  the  good  fortune  of  a  minute's  talk  with  her 
alone;  and  Rutledge,  oppressed  by  the  result  of  their 
last  meeting  at  Senator  DeVale's,  unsatisfied  with  the 
empty  nothings  which  passed  for  conversation  in  the 
brief  glimpses  he  had  of  her  at  formal  gatherings,  and 
chilled  by  the  coldness  of  her  manner  which  had  been 


192          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

oh,  so  different  in  that  halycon  summer  when  he  had 
lost  his  heart  to  her,  was  well  content  to  stand  further 
and.  further  away  from  her  in  the  crowd  that  was 
always  about  her,  and  to  worship  in  spirit  the  real 
Elise  Phillips  unfettered  by  convention  and  unaffected 
by  untoward  incident.  He  took  what  comfort  he 
could  from  the  fact  that  as  yet  no  favoured  one  ap 
peared  among  Elise's  admirers,  and  that  among  the 
sons  of  fortune,  army  officers,  attaches,  and  all  that 
sort  who  aspired  to  make  life  interesting  for  the  Presi 
dent's  eldest  daughter  it  seemed  none  could  flatter 
himself  he  was  preferred  above  another. 

As  for  those  who  exhibited  the  liveliest  interest  in 
Elise,  gossip  gave  that  distinction  to  two.  One 
evening  at  a  reception  at  Secretary  Mackenzie's  Sen 
ator  Rutledge  was  talking  to  Lola  DeVale  when  Elise 
passed,  accompanied  by  a  stalwart  young  fellow  whom 
Rutledge  had  never  seen. 

"  Who  is  Sir  Monocle?  "  he  asked. 

"Where?"  asked  Lola. 

"  Miss   Phillips'  escort." 

"  Oh.     He  has  no  monocle." 

"  I  know.  But  he  should  have.  He  looks  it.  Who 
is  he?" 

"  Captain  George  St.  Lawrence  Howard,  second 
son  of  the  Earl  of  Duddeston.  He  was  taking  a  look 
at  America,  but  an  introduction  to  Elise  seems  to  have 
persuaded  him  to  limit  his  observations  to  Washing 
ton  City." 

"  Sensible  fellow,"  commented  Rutledge. 

"  Yes,"  said  Lola,  "  and  a  very  likable  fellow. 
He  won  his  captaincy  with  Younghusband  in  the 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  193 

Thibetan  campaign  before  he  was  twenty ;  and  the 
fact  that  an  invalid  brother  is  all  that  stands  between 
him  and  the  earldom  doesn't  make  him  any  the  less 
interesting." 

"  Titles  are  talismanic  —  whether  military  or  other. 
With  two,  he  ought  to  be  fairly  irresistible." 

'  Yes,  and  besides  that  he  has  plenty  of  money  and 
leisure  to  make  love  with  a  thorough  care  for  detail." 

"  With  all  those  and  a  manifest  supremely  good 
taste,"  said  Rutledge,  "  I  would  back  him  for  a  win 
ner." 

"  You  are  forgetting  Senatorial  courtesy !  " 

"  How  now?  " 

"  Senator  Richland." 

"What  of  him?" 

"  He  also  is  in  the  running." 

"  Richland?    I  hadn't  heard." 

'  Yes ;  and  remember  that  his  fortune  is  ten  times 
that  of  the  Earl  of  Duddeston.  and  his  brains  are  of 
the  same  grade  as  his  bank  account." 

Rutledge  was  interested.  He  had  a  thorough  re 
spect  for  Richland's  ability. 

"  He  is  nearly  twice  Elise's  age,"  Lola  continued, 
"  and  Senatorial  dignity  will  not  permit  a  display  of 
violent  enthusiasm.  But  Senator  Richland  has  ac 
quired  the  habit  of  winning,  and  he  is  young  enough 
and  abundantly  able  to  make  the  game  interesting 
both  for  Elise  and  for  any  rivals.  He  is  young  indeed 
for  his  honours,  has  the  ear  of  the  people,  and  is  a 
politician  of  rare  acumen.  His  followers  predict  for 
him  nothing  less  than  the  Presidency  itself  when  his 
time  is  ripe.  What  more  could  a  girl  wish?  Don't 


194          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

lay  all  your  salary  on  the  Englishman  —  you  might 
lose." 

Lola  DeVale  had  not  misread  Senator  Richland's 
purposes.  He  was  seriously  in  the  running.  Elise 
was  the  first  woman  he  had  ever  thought  of  marrying. 
She  seemed  to  him  to  fit  perfectly  into  all  the  plans 
which  his  ambition  had  made  for  the  future.  He  had 
met  her  at  Mr.  Phillips'  inauguration,  and  after  think 
ing  over  her  charms  during  the  summer  vacation  had 
come  back  to  Washington  in  December  fully  deter 
mined  to  wage  a  vigorous  campaign  for  her  hand. 

Of  the  other  men  who  were  rash  enough  to  dream 
of  Elise  it  is  needless  and  would  be  tiresome  to  go  into 
detail.  They  were  more  or  less  interested,  enamoured 
or  devoted :  but  the  Senator  and  Captain  Howard 
were  too  fast  company  for  them,  and  they  are  of  in 
terest  only  as  a  numerous  field  which  made  the  run 
ning  more  or  less  difficult  for  the  leaders. 

Evans  Rutledge  willingly  would  have  entered  the 
lists  against  Richland  or  the  Englishman  —  against 
anybody  —  if  Elise  had  been  ordinarily  civil  to 
him;  but  he  had  been  in  such  evident  disfavour  since 
the  Smith  knock-down  that  he  deemed  himself 
one  of  "  the  gallery  "  at  this  game  of  hearts.  Elise, 
when  indeed  she  had  time  to  think  of  it,  felt  that  she 
had  dealt  with  him  ungenerously  if  not  unjustly,  but 
that  only  made  his  presence  less  grateful  to  her. 

The  unreasonableness  of  Elise's  attitude  toward 
Rutledge  and  Rutledge's  behaviour  whenever  she  saw 
him  near  Elise,  mildly  stirred  the  womanly  curiosity 
of  Lola  DeVale  to  the  point  of  investigation.  She 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          195 

found  Elise  averse  to  the  slightest  discussion  of  Sen 
ator  Rutledge  or  of  anything  connected  with  him. 
Baffled  there,  she  turned  with  more  determination  and 
softer  skill  to  the  man.  He  will  never  know  how  he 
came  upon  terms  of  such  friendliness  and  sympathy 
with  Miss  DeVale.  Soon  doubtless  he  would  have 
confided  the  story  of  his  love  to  her.  But  events  came 
about  differently. 

A  score  of  young  people  were  at  Senator  DeVale's 
country-place  one  evening  in  May.  Elise  had  met 
Evans  with  something  of  her  old-time  friendliness  and 
he  was  in  an  uncertain  state  of  happiness. 

"  Now  don't  make  an  ass  of  yourself  because  the 
Lady  Beautiful  is  in  a  mood  to  be  gracious,"  he  sol 
emnly  admonished  his  heart.  "  Sir  Monocle  may  just 
have  proposed  and  been  accepted." 

The  thought  was  as  bracing  as  a  cold  shower  and 
gave  him  a  vigorous  grip  on  his  rebellious  affections. 

Then  he  danced  with  her  —  on  the  wide,  dimly 
lighted  veranda  —  a  slow,  lotus-land  waltz,  just  com 
ing  back  in  vogue  after  more  than  a  decade  of  gallop 
ing  two-steps. 

He  took  another  grip  on  himself.  He  must  not 
think  of  the  woman  in  his  arms.  Luckily  the  old- 
fashioned  dance  was  diverting:  while  the  movement 
was  intoxicating  it  was  reminiscent.  He  remembered 
his  first  waltz  —  the  Carolina  hill-town  —  the  moon 
light,  the  smell  of  the  roses  —  the  plump  little  girl  in 
the  white  dress,  with  the  red,  red  sash,  and  the  cheeks 
as  red,  with  the  black  eyes  and  the  blacker  hair,  with 
the  indefinable  sensuous  physical  perfume  of  Woman, 
and  the  very  Spirit  of  the  Dance,  —  she  who  —  yes, 


196          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

she  who  married  the  station-agent  and  was  now  such 
a  motherly  person.  He  began  a  speech  that  would 
have  been  cynical.  Elise  stopped  him. 

"  Don't  talk,"  she  said.     "  Let's  dream." 

Tumult !  Riot !  What's  the  use  to  hold  one's  pulses 
steady  when  the  Lady  Beautiful  herself  incites  revolt! 

"  Let's  dream."  His  heart-strings  were  set 
a-tremble  by  the  vibrant  richness  of  her  voice,  which 
seemed  to  have  caught  the  dreaminess  and  rhythm 
and  resonance  of  the  violins  that  drew  them  on. 
Ancl- 

"  Don't  talk."  No :  he  would  not  profane  the  en 
chantment  of  that  waltz  with  words;  and  yet  surely 
My  Lady  Beautiful  were  heartless  indeed  not  to  catch 
the  messages  of  love  which,  pure  of  the  alloy  of  breath 
and  speech,  his  every  pulse-beat  sent  unfettered  to  her 
heart. 

He  held  her  for  a  moment  after  the  violins  had 
ceased,  and  the  spell  of  the  slow-swinging  waltz  was 
still  upon  them  both  —  when  a  quick  jerk  of  the 
fiddles  in  the  ever  rollicking  two-step  brought  Sir 
Monocle  to  Elise's  side.  Evans  resigned  her  with  a 
bow  and,  without  so  much  as  a  "  thank  you,"  went  out 
on  the  lawn  to  commune  with  his  heart. 

How  long  that  two-step  continued,  he,  seated  in  a 
retired  nook,  did  not  know.  Sometime  after  it  was 
finished  he  saw  Elise  and  the  Englishman  walk  down 
the  winding  path  that  led  from  the  front  door  to  the 
roadside.  They  stood  talking  together  a  minute  per 
haps  till  Captain  Howard  boarded  a  passing  car  city- 
bound.  Rutledge  noted  with  a  twinge  of  jealousy  the 
cordial  good-bye  the  girl  gave  the  man,  but  even  at 
that  distance  and  through  the  uncertain  light  he 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  197 

thought  he  saw  —  and,  queer  to  say,  resented  —  a 
certain  formality  in  Captain  Howard's  adieus  to  the 
woman. 

He  watched  her  through  the  trees  as  she  came 
slowly  back  up  the  hill  following  the  turns  of  the 
smooth  hard  walk  as  it  wound  through  darkness 
and  half  lights  from  the  broad  gateway  to  the  house. 
She  moved  along,  a  white  shadow,  slowly  at  first, 
and  Evans  imagined  that  she  was  in  some  such 
mood  as  possessed  him.  Then  she  started  sud 
denly  and  ran  at  a  stone  stairway  which  mounted  a 
terrace.  She  tripped,  stumbled  and  fell  against  the 
granite  steps. 

Rutledge  was  flying  to  her  before  she  was  fairly 
prone.  He  spoke  to  her  and  tried  to  help  her  up. 
She  made  no  answer,  and  her  hand  and  arm  were 
limp. 

"  Elise!  "  he  said,  with  fear  in  his  voice.  Still  no 
answer. 

He  took  her  in  his  arms  and  made  directly  up 
the  hill  for  the  front  door. 

"  Elise,"  he  whispered  fearfully  again.  "  Oh,  my 
heart,  speak  to  me !  " 

Her  cheek  was  against  his  shoulder.  He  buried 
his  face  in  her  hair,  as  he  prayerfully  kissed  the  snow- 
white  part  visible  even  in  that  darkness.  Her  head 
dropped  limply  back,  and  a  sigh  came  from  her  lips 
so  close  to  his.  Still  she  answered  not  his  call.  He 
loved  her  very  much  and  —  he  kissed  her  again,  softly, 
where  the  long  lashes  lay  upon  her  cheek,  and  — 
"  Elise!  "  he  murmured  appealingly.  She  turned  her 
face  feebly  away  from  him,  like  a  child  restless  in 
sleep. 


198          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

He  had  not  delayed  his  climb  to  the  house. 

"  Here !  "  he  cried.  "  Get  Dr.  Sheldon  quick !  Miss 
Phillips  is  dangerously  hurt!  " 

There  were  excited  screams  among  the  women  and 
a  stir  among  the  men  as  he  carried  his  burden  across 
the  piazza  and  into  the  wide  hall.  There  in  the  full 
light  he  saw  —  Miss  Elise  Phillips  talking  quietly  to 
Donald  MacLane.  He  almost  let  fall  the  woman  in 
his  arms.  He  looked  again  at  her  face.  She  was 
Lola  DeVale. 

Dr.  Sheldon  and  Lola's  mother  fortunately  were 
at  hand.  At  their  direction  Rutledge  carried  the 
young  woman  up  the  stairs  and  laid  her  on  a  couch  in 
her  sitting-room.  She  opened  her  eyes  and  smiled 
languidly  at  him  as  he  put  her  down. 

Elise  and  all  the  other  young  people  knew  of  Rut- 
ledge's  mistake  as  to  Lola's  identity,  but  Elise  could 
not  understand  why  he  blushed  so  furiously  as  he  gave 
her  an  account  of  the  mishap. 

At  her  next  tete-a-tete  with  Rutledge  Lola  gave  him 
her  very  sincerest  thanks  and  —  laughed  at  him  till  he 
was  uncomfortable.  Finally  she  said :  "  You  are  a 
very  gallant  but  a  very  mercenary  knight,  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge."  Rutledge  was  hopelessly  confused. 

Lola  continued,  mischief  in  her  eyes :  "  Alas !  the 
spirit  of  commercialism  has  pervaded  even  Southern 
Chivalry,  and  forlorn  maidens  must  pay  as  they  go." 
Rutledge  and  was  plainly  resentful. 

"  Now  I  am  very  unselfish,  Mr.  Rutledge,  and  —  I 
wish  it  had  been  Elise."  Her  mischief  dissolved  in  a 
confiding  smile,  full  of  sympathy,  —  and  Rutledge 
was  very  humble. 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  199 

Lola  DeVale's  sympathy  was  warm  and  irresistible, 
and  before  he  was  aware  he  was  telling  her  of  his  love 
for  Elise  in  a  way  to  set  her  interest  a-tingle. 

"  Why  don't  you  tell  her  of  it?  "  asked  Lola.  "  Tell 
her  that  it  just  overwhelms  all  earlier  loves." 

"  Earlier  loves?  I  never  loved  any  other  woman," 
Rutledge  answered. 

"  Oh,  of  course  not."  Lola  could  scarcely  repress  a 
smile  at  the  thought  that  a  man  always  swears  only 
his  last  passion  is  genuine. 

"  But  tell  her  —  tell  her !  "  she  repeated. 

"  I  have  told  her." 

"When?" 

"  Three  years  ago." 

"Plainly?    or  with  artistic  indirectness?" 

"  Plainly." 

Lola  looked  at  him  incredulously,  but  saw  that  he 
was  telling  the  truth. 

"  The  sly  thing!  "  she  exclaimed  under  her  breath. 
"  But  tell  her  again!  I  declare  if  I  were  a  man  and 
loved  Elise  —  and  I  would  love  none  else  —  I'd  tell 
her  so  every  time  I  saw  her." 

"  Oh.  I'll  not  love  another  —  no  fear  of  that," 
Evans  replied  half  lightly;  "but  as  for  telling  her 
again,  self-respect  will  not  - 

"Self-respect  —  fudge!  If  I  loved  a  girl  I'd  tell 
her  so  a  hundred  times  —  and  marry  her  too  —  in 
spite  of  everything." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  Evans  commented  skeptically. 

Lola  was  shooting  in  the  dark,  but  her  warm  heart 
would  not  let  her  leave  the  matter  at  rest.  Both  be 
cause  of  her  desire,  being  happily  in  love  herself,  to 
see  the  love  affairs  of  her  friends  go  smoothly,  and 


200          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

because  of  the  riddle  it  presented  to  her,  she  ap 
proached  Elise  again  in  order  to  straighten  out  the 
tangled  skein  for  everybody's  satisfaction.  She 
thought  to  match  her  wits  against  Elise's  and  pro 
ceeded  with  more  caution. 

"  By  the  way,  Elise,"  she  said,  apropos  of  nothing 
at  all,  "  I  think  you  were  right  about  Senator  Rut- 
ledge's  being  very  much  in  love  with  that  young 
woman  you  told  me  about." 

Elise  exhibited  a  perfect  indifference  and  said  noth 
ing. 

"  I  asked  him  about  her,  after  becoming  duly  con 
fidential  and  sympathetic,  of  course,  and  he  confirmed 
your  statement.  He  still  loves  the  girl  —  oh,  you 
ought  to  hear  him  tell  of  it.  '  He  will  never  love  an 
other  till  he's  dead,  dead,  dead,'  —  or  words  to  that 
effect :  but  he  will  not  .tell  her  - 

Elise  was  listening  with  a  polite  but  languid  in 
terest. 

"  —  again.  He  thinks  his  self-respect  forbids ;  but 
7  think  —  " 

"Did  he  say  that?     To  you?"  Elise  demanded. 

"  Yes ;    when  I  asked  h— 

"  Well  now,  once  and  for  all,  Lola,  I  tell  you  I 
despise  that  man,  and  never  must  you  mention  his 
name  to  me  again !  " 

"But  Elise,  I  think  he—" 

"  Stop,  Lola !     I'll  not  hear  another  word !  " 

"  But  let  me  tell  you,  Elise.     He  —  " 

"  No!  Stop  now!  Not  another  word  if  you  care  for 
my  friendship.  I'll  never  speak  to  you  again  if  you 
speak  of  him  to  me !  " 

Elise's  anger  was  at  white  heat,  and  she  looked  and 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          201 

spoke  like  her  father.  Lola  was  frightened  at  her 
manner,  but  made  another  brave  attempt  to  set  mat 
ters  straight,  which  was  met  by  such  a  blaze  of  per 
sonal  resentment  in  Elise's  eyes  that  she  gave  up  in 
abject  defeat  —  though  she  did  pluck  up  courage  to 
fire  a  parting  shot. 

"  Very  well,  my  dear,"  she  said,  as  if  dismissing  the 
subject.  ..."  I  have  something  of  yours  I  must 
give  you  before  I  go.  There  —  take  it,"  and  she 
kissed  the  expectant  Elise  warmly  on  the  lips  as  she 
added :  "  Senator  Rutledge  gave  it  to  me  by  mistake 
as  he  carried  me  up  the  hill  the  other  night." 


CHAPTER    XIX 

LILY  PORTER  finally  became  conscious  that  she  was 
the  special  attraction  for  a  stranger  who  regularly 
every  other  Sunday  evening  sat  in  a  forward  pew  and 
listened  to  her  singing  with  attentive  interest,  but  who 
showed  little  or  no  care  for  any  of  the  service  beside. 
Several  months  had  gone  by  before  she  noticed  him 
and  his  faithful  attention  to  herself.  When  she  did 
realize  his  presence  she  was  conscious  that  he  had 
been  paying  her  this  tribute  for  a  long  time.  She  ob 
served  him  quietly  and  satisfied  herself  that  he  came 
only  to  see  or  to  hear  her.  He  did  not  force  himself 
upon  her  vision,  but  none  the  less  did  she  understand 
that  she  was  the  chief  object  of  his  respectful  consid 
eration. 

The  preacher's  manner  and  style  of  thought  did  not 
appeal  to  Hayward,  while  Lily  Porter's  face  and  voice 
did.  He  always  sat  where  he  could  look  at  her  in  the 
choir-loft,  for  he  argued  that  as  he  went  only  to  see 
her  he  would  see  as  much  of  her  as  possible.  His  face 
was  mobile  and  easily  read,  and  as  he  was  good  to 
look  upon  and  so  evidently  appreciative  of  her  efforts 
the  girl  came  ere  long  to  sing  with  an  eye  to  his  ap 
proval  and  admiration  —  to  sing  for  him  and  to  him. 
This  interested  her  for  a  time,  but  she  was  piqued  at 
length  for  that  he  seemed  content  to  admire  at  a  dis 
tance  and  made  no  effort  to  come  nearer  to  her. 

202 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          203 

One  evening,  unexpectedly  to  them  both,  a  negro 
prominent  among  his  race  because  of  his  position  as 
Registrar  for  the  District,  John  K.  Brown,  with  whom 
Hayward  had  picked  up  a  mutually  agreeable  though 
casual  acquaintance,  introduced  him  to  the  singer  in 
the  aisle  of  the  church. 

"  Miss  Lily,  I  want  to  introduce  my  friend  Mr. 
John  Hayward,  who  goes  into  extravagances  about 
your  singing  —  as  he  very  properly  should." 

Hayward  was  overjoyed  at  his  good  fortune.  To 
be  presented  as  John  Brown's  friend  was  a  passport 
to  the  best  negro  society  in  Washington.  He  was  as 
much  pleased  to  know  that  Brown  regarded  him  so 
favourably  as  he  was  delighted  to  meet  the  young 
woman.  As  he  walked  with  her  to  the  door  she  pre 
sented  him  to  her  mother,  a  bright  mulatto  woman 
about  fifty  or  more,  who  did  the  grand  dame  to  the 
best  of  her  ability:  which  was  indeed  perfect  as  to 
manner  but  was  betrayed  the  moment  she  tried  to  do 
too  many  things  with  the  English  language. 

When  he  had  opportunity  Hayward  was  profuse 
in  his  thanks  to  Brown,  and  told  him  volubly  of  his 
love  for  music.  Finding  a  sympathetic  listener,  he 
was  led  on  to  an  impulsive  story  of  the  social  longings 
and  lackings  in  his  life.  Brown,  more  than  ever  im 
pressed  with  the  young  fellow's  intelligence  and 
worthiness,  was  at  some  pains  thereafter  to  look  after 
him  and  set  him  going  in  a  congenial  social  current. 

With  Brown's  approval  and  his  own  gifts  and 
graces  it  was  not  remarkable  that  Hayward  won  his 
way  to  social  popularity  as  fast  as  his  confining  duties 
would  permit.  He  began  to  see  much  of  Lily  Porter 
and  was  consistent  in  his  devotion  to  her  despite  the 


204          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

fact  that  the  habit  of  his  college  days  of  being  at 
tracted  by  each  new  and  pretty  face  still  measurably 
clung  to  him.  His  information  and  accomplishments 
were  of  a  sort  superior  to  that  of  any  of  the  young 
women  he  met,  and  none  made  a  serious  impression  on 
his  heart.  Lily  Porter  was  more  nearly  his  equal  in 
education  and  general  cultivation  of  mind  and  manner, 
and  was  really  the  most  attractive  to  him;  but  his 
harmless  vanity  could  not  forego  the  admiration  of 
the  others,  and  he  gave  some  little  time  to  small  con 
quests.  He  did  homage  to  Lily  by  his  evident  ad 
miration  of  her  talents  and  comeliness  and  by  his  un 
concealed  pleasure  in  her  friendship.  At  the  same 
time  he  met  her  petty  tyrannies  and  autocratic  de 
mands  with  an  unmoved  indifference. 

He  had  become  very  well  acquainted  with  Lily  and 
had  called  on  her  several  times  before  Henry  Porter 
knew  that  his  daughter  was  receiving  the  footman 
whom  he  had  snubbed  some  months  before. 

"  Lily,  who  was  that  young  man  that  called  on  you 
last  night?" 

"Mr.  Hayward." 

"  Umhuh,  I  thought  he  was  the  same  fellow. 
You'll  have  to  drop  him.  I  don't  want  you  to  be 
receivin'  no  footman  in  this  house.  We  must  draw 
the  line  somewhere." 

"  He's  no  footman,  papa.  He's  one  of  Mr.  Brown's 
friends.  Mr.  Brown  introduced  him  to  me  himself. 
I  think  he  is  connected  with  Mr.  Brown's  office." 

"  No  such  thing.  Hayward's  footman  at  the  White 
House  —  told  me  so  hisself  'bout  a  year  ago,  and  I 
saw  him  on  the  President's  carriage  no  longer'n  yes- 


THE  CALL  OF  THE  SOUTH    205 

terday.  Nice  lie  he's  told  you  'bout  bein'  in  Brown's 
office." 

"  Oh,  he  didn't  say  so,  papa.  I  supposed  so  because 
Mr.  Brown  said  he  was  his  friend  and  has  introduced 
him  to  all  the  nice  people.  Surely  you  can't  object  to 
one  of  Mr.  Brown's  friends.  Everybody  likes  Mr. 
Hayward  and  he  is  received  everywhere." 

"  Everybody  likes  him,  do  they?  Well  you  see  to 
it  you  don't  like  him  any  too  much.  I  can't  kick  him 
out  if  Brown  stands  for  him,  but  you  make  it  your 
business  to  let  him  down  easy.  Have  you  seen  Bob 
Shaw  lately?  " 

"  He  was  here  last  night  when  Mr.  Hayward 
came,"  answered  Lily;  and  she  seemed  to  be  amused 
at  something'. 

"Well,  what's  funny  'bout  that?" 

Lily  knew  that  she  must  not  tell  her  father  what 
she  was  laughing  at.  She  created  a  diversion. 

"  Mr.  Shaw  is  so  backward,  and  so  —  dark." 

"  Dark !  He's  jus'  a  good  hones'  black,  —  so'm  I 
-  all  African  and  proud  of  it.  Mebbe  I'm  too  dark 
to  suit  yuh.  Bob  Shaw  is  not  backward,  miss.  He's 
got  the  bes'  law  practice  of  all  the  niggers  in  the  Dis- 
tric',  and  he'll  be  leader  of  the  whole  crowd  in  a  few 
years.  He's  the  bes'  one  in  the  bunch  of  these  fellers 
who  tag  after  you  and  you  better  take  him.  My 
money  and  his  brains  and  pull  with  the  party  'd  make 
a  great  combernation." 

Lily  did  not  commit  herself.  She  was  accustomed 
to  her  father's  blunt  method  of  indicating  his  wishes. 
She  liked  Shaw  well  enough,  but  old  Henry's  awk 
ward  interference  and  zeal  did  the  lawyer's  cause  no 


206          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

good.  Shaw  was  below  the  ordinary  in  the  matter  of 
good  looks,  and  in  his  love  for  Lily  was  too  submissive 
to  her  whims.  He  had  not  Hayward's  easy  manner, 
nor  his  assurance  —  for  the  footman  was  not  at  all 
abashed  by  Henry  Porter's  money  nor  his  daughter's 
gentle  arrogance.  It  is  needless  to  say  the  girl  pre 
ferred  the  serving-man  to  the  lawyer. 

After  the  first  flush  of  interest  in  Lily  and  her  songs 
had  subsided  Hayward  made  love  to  the  pampered 
belle  warmly  or  indifferently  as  the  mood  was  upon 
him.  He  noted  that,  taking  her  charms  in  detail,  they 
were  alluring  without  exception;  and  such  moments 
of  reflective  analysis  were  always  followed  by  a  more 
determined  pursuit  of  her.  Yet  the  careless  moods 
came.  However,  he  always  delighted  in  and  could 
be  extravagant  in  praising  her  singing,  even  when  the 
personal  attraction  was  the  weakest,  and  the  general 
effect  on  the  woman  was  a  continuous  tattoo  of  love- 
taps  at  the  door  of  her  heart. 

The  negro  magnate's  favourite,  Shaw,  clearly  was 
being  outdistanced,  and  the  outraged  father  stamped 
and  threatened  and  commanded :  but  to  no  purpose. 
When  Hayward  discovered  the  bitterness  of  the  old 
man's  opposition  he  chuckled. 

"  Here's  where  I  get  even,"  he  said ;  and  became 
more  assiduous  in  his  attentions  to  Lily  and  more 
aggressive  in  his  methods. 

"  Your  father  does  not  appear  to  hold  much  love 
for  me,"  he  told  Lily  one  evening  after  she  had  sung 
him  into  an  affectionate  frame  of  mind  and  the  con 
versation  had  drifted  along  to  the  confidential  and 
personal  stage. 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          207 

"  Did  I  ever  tell  you  what  he  did  with  my  first  re 
quest  for  an  introduction  to  you?  " 

"No.     What?" 

"  He  stamped  the  feathers  off  of  it,"  said  Hayward, 
and  laughingly  told  her  the  details. 

"  Papa  thinks  —  everybody  —  should  be  a  lawyer, 
or  a  politician  with  a  pull,"  Lily  commented  complain- 
ingly. 

The  temptation  to  vindicate  his  dignity  was  too 
much  for  Hayward. 

"  I  was  not  always  a  footman  and  do  not  intend 
always  to  be  a  footman ;  and  yet,  footman  as  I  am, 
if  your  father  values  a  pull  with  the  President,  per 
haps,  if  he  knew  —  oh,  well,  he  might  think  better 
of  me." 

"  Oh,  you  have  a  pull  ?  How  interesting.  Do  tell 
me  about  it.  I  have  read  so  much  about  pulls  that  I 
am  dying  to  know  what  one  is  like.  How  do  you 
work  it?  I  believe  you  work  a  pull,  don't  you?  Or 
do  you  pull  the  — 

"  I  haven't  pulled  mine  yet.  I'm  waiting,"  said 
Hayward.  "  But  it  will,  work  when  the  time  comes." 

"  And  when  will  the  time  come?  Tell  me.  I'm  so 
anxious  to  see  the  wheels  go  round  in  a  genuine  polit 
ical  machine.  How  many  Southern  delegates  can  you 
influence  in  the  next  national  convention  ?  That's  the 
mainspring,  isn't  it?" 

"  I'm  no  politician  or  vote  vender.  I've  never  had 
the  pleasure  of  influencing  my  own  vote  yet,  and  won't 
as  long  as  I  live  in  the  District." 

"  What !  Without  politics  or  votes,  and  yet  you 
have  a  pull?" 


208          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

"  It  is  a  personal  matter  entirely,"  Hayward  an 
swered  carelessly,  as  if  personal  friendships  with 
Presidents  were  very  ordinary  affairs  for  him.  Lily 
Porter  was  a  mite  skeptical,  but  she  hoped  he  spoke 
the  truth,  for  it  would  more  than  confirm  her  estimate 
of  him  and  would  be  such  an  effective  counter  to  her 
father's  nagging  opposition. 

"Oh,  isn't  that  interesting!  Tell  me  all  about 
it!" 

"  Really  I  cannot.  I  have  never  told  that,  even  to 
my  mother.  There  is  only  one  other  person  who 
knows  of  it.  It  is  my  one  secret,  and  my  life  —  that 
is,  my  future  —  depends  largely  upon  it.  There's  too 
much  at  stake." 

"  Would  you  fear  to  trust  your  life  —  your  future 
—  in  my  hands?  "  asked  the  woman  softly.  "  I  could 
be  a  very  good  and  a  very  faithful  friend." 

The  lure  in  her  voice  was  irresistible. 

"  I  would  trust  my  soul  with  you,"  he  answered, 
and  with  the  spoken  faith  the  trust  was  perfected  in 
his  heart.  "  Listen." 

He  told  her  all  about  himself,  of  his  name  and  his 
history,  of  his  life  and  his  hopes.  He  was  modest  in 
his  recital  of  the  creditable  things  he  had  done;  but 
when  he  had  told  her  of  his  claim  upon  the  President's 
gratitude  and  the  purpose  toward  which  he  would  use 
it,  and  began  to  talk  of  his  ambition  and  his  dreams, 
his  heart  was  fired  by  its  own  fervour,  and  before  the 
very  warmth  of  his  own  eloquence  all  obstacles  and 
difficulties  faded  as  mists  before  the  sun,  and  he  felt 
that  he  needed  only  to  put  forth  his  hands  to  grasp  his 
heart's  desires. 

The  girl  was  touched  with  his  fire.     She  listened 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          209 

with  ready  sympathy  to  the  beginning  of  his  story, 
heard  with  quickening  pulses  of  his  rescue  of  Colonel 
Phillips,  and  in  the  telling  of  his  hopes  was  caught  in 
the  current  of  his  transporting  fervency  and  carried 
along  with  him  to  realize  the  vision  of  his  martial 
career. 

"And  that  is  the  picture  of  your  life!  It  is  —  it 
will  be  —  glorious  !  "  She  rose  in  her  enthusiasm. 
"  Oh,  that  a  woman  might  — 

"  Glorious  —  yes,''  the  man  said;  "  and  till  to-night 
it  had  seemed  perfect  to  me.  But  I  have  been  blind  to 
its  greatest  lack.  You  have  made  me  conscious  of  it." 
Hayward  stood  up  and  moved  toward  the  girl,  who 
wavered  uncertainly  between  reserve  and  complai 
sance. 

"  I  would  paint  another  figure  into  that  picture, 
Lily  —  the  figure  of  a  woman."  He  put  his  hands 
out  toward  her,  and  her  coldness  was  melting  when  — 

"  Lily,"  said  her  father  from  the  hall,  "  what  did 
you  do  with  the  evenin'  paper?  I  want  to  read  Mr. 
Shaw's  speech  before  the  convention  this  mornin'. 
Mr.  Brown  told  me  that  it  is  the  greates'  speech  that's 
been  made  yet." 

Henry  Porter  came  into  the  parlour  in  time  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  confusion  and  unusual  attitude  in  his 
daughter  and  Hayward.  He  thought  best  to  mount 
guard,  and  decided  to  talk  Hayward  into  flight.  He 
began  with  a  panegyric  on  Shaw.  Hayward  caught 
the  hint  and  took  his  leave,  pulling  Lily  to  the  front 
door  by  a  chain  of  conversation. 

"  Now  remember,"  he  murmured  tenderly,  "  you 
hold  my  secret;  and  must  keep  it  sacredly." 

"  Have  no   fear  of  me.     Watch   your  other  con- 


210          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

fidante,"  Lily  whispered,  her  manner  full  as  his  of 
tenderness. 

"  Oh,  she  is  —  " 

"  Shaw  told  'em,"  began  the  persistent  and  sus 
picious  parent,  coming  out  of  the  parlour ;  —  but  the 
footman  was  gone  down  the  steps. 

Hayward's  mood  changed  in  a  twinkling  and  with 
a  jolt.  He  walked  a  hundred  paces  thinking  con 
fusedly. 

The  question  slowly  framed  itself  in  his  mind.  .  .  . 
"Do  I  love  Lily?" 

But  he  did  not  answer  it. 


CHAPTER    XX 

THE  oncoming  summer  promised  to  be  long  and 
uneventful  for  Helen  Phillips.  Late  in  May  her 
mother  took  her  and  her  two  little  sisters  to  Stag 
Inlet,  leaving  a  perspiring  father  to  await  the  per 
verse  pleasure  of  a  stubborn  Congress  before  begin 
ning  his  vacation,  and  Elise  to  set  out  upon  a  round  of 
visiting  that  would  permit  her  to  see  very  little  of 
home  during  the  hot  months.  To  Mrs.  Phillips  the 
restfulness  of  "  Hill-Top  "  was  gratefully  refreshing 
after  her  trying  first  winter  in  Washington.  She  gave 
herself  over  fully  to  its  soothing  quiet  and  arranged 
her  daily  programmes  on  the  simplest  lines. 

Hayward,  because  of  his  versatile  abilities  an  in 
dispensable  part  of  the  simple  Hill-Top  outfit,  did  not 
have  an  opportunity  before  leaving  for  Stag  Inlet  to 
see  Lily  Porter  again.  Nor  indeed  was  he  regretful  on 
that  account.  He  was  in  a  state  of  indecision  and 
wanted  time  to  think.  He  heartily  wished  that  he  had 
not  been  so  free  with  his  confidences :  yet  could  not 
justify  this  feeling  when  he  sought  a  reason  for  it. 

After  awhile  he  wrote  Lily  a  letter  which  was  a 
model  of  diplomacy  —  which  said  much  and  said  noth 
ing.  It  did  not  disappoint  or  displease  her.  She 
read  between  the  lines  an  admirable  modesty  and  re 
straint,  complimentary  to  herself  and  true  to  the  artis 
tic  instinct  which,  she  had  read  somewhere,  always 

211 


212          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

saves  a  full  confession  for  a  personal  interview.  She 
took  her  own  good  time  to  answer  it.  She  felt  sure  of 
the  man's  devotion,  despite  the  fact  that  his  other  and 
unknown  confidante  was  a  woman  other  than  his 
mother.  The  tenor  of  her  reply  was  reserved,  though 
not  discouraging.  Hayward's  impatience  was  not 
excited  by  the  delay,  nor  his  interest  quickened  by  the 
coy  missive. 

The  first  morning  Helen  was  on  the  lake  after  com 
ing  to  the  Inlet  her  launch  passed  a  small  catboat 
commanded  by  Jimmie  Radwine  and  flying  a  Yale 
pennant  from  her  diminutive  masthead.  The  crew, 
consisting  of  Captain  Jimmie  and  another  youngster, 
both  younger  than  Helen,  were  yelling  themselves 
dizzy. 

"  What's  Jimmie  Radwine  saying,  Helen  ?  "  asked 
Nell  Stewart. 

Jimmie  had  no  intention  of  leaving  them  unin 
formed.  He  had  put  his  boat  about,  and  come  up 
alongside. 

"  Hello,  Helen !  "  he  shouted,  "  Harvard  can't  play 
ball!  Quincy  can't  pitch!  Tom  got  a  home  run  and 
two  two-baggers  off  him  in  four  times  up !  Rah !  rah ! 
rah!  YALE!" 

Helen  was  a  famous  Harvard  partisan,  and  many  a 
verbal  tilt  had  she  had  with  Jimmie,  whose  brother 
Tom  was  Yale's  right-fielder,  as  to  the  comparative 
merits  of  the  blue  and  the  crimson  in  all  things  from 
scholarship  to  shot-putting. 

"  What  was  the  score,  Jimmie?  "  she  asked  him. 

"  Wasn't  any  score  —  for  Harvard :  all  for  Yale. 
Wow !  Yale  —  Yale  —  Yale !  "  he  yelled. 


THE  CALL  OF  THE  SOUTH    213 

Helen  looked  a  dignified  reproof  of  his  unmannerly 
enthusiasm,  but  Jimmie's  youth  was  proof  against  any 
such  mild  rebuke,  and  her  irritation  only  kindled  his 
joy.  She  nodded  to  Hayward  for  more  speed,  but  as 
Jimmie  was  favoured  by  a  stiff  breeze  they  could  not 
shake  him  off.  He  followed  them  for  two  miles  or 
more  up  the  lake,  volunteering  much  information 
sandwiched  between  cheers  for  Eli,  which,  when  he 
had  delivered  it  fully  and  in  detail,  he  began  to  repeat 
in  order  to  impress  it  upon  them.  Hayward  cheerfully 
would  have  bumped  him  with  the  launch. 

Having  so  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  morning's  sport, 
Captain  Jimmie  regularly  afterward  flew  the  blue  pen 
nant  from  his  mast,  and  was  ever  on  the  alert  to  greet 
Helen  with  the  Yale  yell  and  further  particulars. 

Less  than  a  month  later  the  Harvard  crew  rowed 
rings  around  the  Yale  men  at  New  London.  Helen's 
cup  was  full.  The  next  day  she  and  Nell  Stewart  and 
Nancy  Chester  were  sitting  out  on  the  lawn  reading 
an  account  of  the  race  when  they  saw  Jimmie's  cat- 
boat  beating  about  the  lake. 

"  Come,  girls,"  exclaimed  Helen,  "  we  must  carry 
the  news  to  Jimmie!  " 

"  Hayward.  come  here,"  she  called  to  the  footman, 
who  was  tinkering  at  a  gasoline  runabout  a  hundred 
yards  from  them.  "  Get  the  launch  ready,"  she  added 
when  he  came  nearer,  "  we  want  to  overtake  Mr.  Rad- 
wine's  boat  out  there." 

"  I  guess  Jimmie  will  haul  down  that  blue  flag 
now,"  said  one  of  the  girls  when  they  had  come  to  the 
boat-house. 

"  Hayward,"  said  Helen,  "  run  up  to  the  house  and 


214          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

tell  mamma  to  give  you  the  Harvard  pennant  that  is 
in  my  room  —  and  hurry !  " 

Hayward  needed  no  urging.  Out  of  the  chatter  he 
had  caught  the  news  of  Harvard's  victory  at  the  oars, 
and  he  was  as  full  of  excited  pleasure  as  Helen  herself. 
He  hurried  up  the  hill  and,  not  finding  Mrs.  Phillips, 
rushed  to  his  own  quarters  and  turned  out  from  his 
trunk  the  crimson  pennant. 

Helen  was  too  intent  on  the  chase  of  Jimmie  Rad- 
wine  to  notice  that  the  short  staff  of  the  flag  Hayward 
brought  her,  and  the  faded  and  wrinkled  folds  of  the 
cloth,  did  not  belong  to  the  crimson  emblem  which 
was  part  of  the  decoration  of  her  dressing-table. 
Jimmie,  already  informed  of  Yale's  bitter  defeat,  sur 
mised  the  purpose  of  the  Phillips  launch's  coming,  and 
tried  to  sail  away  and  away:  but  he  was  relentlessly 
pursued  and  overtaken,  and  mercilessly  repaid  for  all 
of  his  taunts  of  the  last  fortnight.  As  they  came  up 
with  him  Helen  cried  out  to  her  friends : 

"  Now,  everybody  give  the  Harvard  yell !  " 

The  feminine  chorus  was  shrill,  but  lacked  volume. 

"  Again !  and  louder !  "  she  commanded.  "  You 
too,  Hayward !  " 

That  was  the  most  grateful  order  Hayward  had 
received  since  the  loth  was  sent  into  the  charge  at 
Valencia.  He  stood  up  to  drive  the  deep-mouthed, 
long-drawn  rah-rah-rah's  from  his  lungs,  and  added  a 
few  kinks  and  wrinkles  at  the  end  in  orthodox  phras 
ing  and  intonation  by  way  of  trimming  off  the  severely 
plain  Harvard  slogan.  Helen  looked  at  him  in  some 
surprise,  and  saw  that  he  was  oblivious  to  his  situation 
and  seemed  bent  on  "  rattling "  the  hostile  blue 
skipper.  He  came  to  himself  at  last,  and  pulled  him- 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          215 

self  together  in  some  confusion  to  give  attention  solely 
to  his  duties  in  running  the  launch.  Helen  thought 
his  behaviour  unusual,  and  watched  him  covertly  while 
the  badgering  of  Jimmie  Radwine  \vas  in  progress. 

Jimmie  was  far  from  an  easy  mark,  however,  for 
by  his  unblushing  impudence  and  boyish  pretension  to 
vast  knowledge  of  facts  and  figures  he  time  and  again 
crowded  Helen  to  her  defences.  Hayward  could 
hardly  keep  his  tongue  when  Jimmie  presumed  too 
much  on  the  ignorance  of  the  young  women  as  to  the 
athletic  history  of  the  blue  and  the  crimson,  and  Helen 
could  see  that  the  negro  was  keeping  quiet  with  dif 
ficulty.  At  one  of  Jiminie's  most  reckless  statements, 
which  overwhelmed  Helen,  Hayward,  bending  over 
the  launch's  little  engine,  shook  his  head  in  violent 
dissent. 

"What  is  it,  Hayward?"  his  mistress  called  to 
him. 

"  Beg  pardon,  Miss  Helen,  but  he's  —  he's  —  mis 
stating  it !  "  Hayward  answered  with  vigour. 

"Then  tell  him  of  it!"  Helen  exclaimed  impul 
sively. 

"  Pardon  me,  but  you  are  altogether  mistaken  about 
that,  Mr.  Radwine,"  the  negro  sang  out  to  Jimmie, 
shoving  the  launch  up  a  little  nearer  the  boat's  wind 
ward  quarter. 

"  What  do  you  know  about  it?  "  Jimmie  demanded 
scornfully. 

"  I  knowr  all  about  it,"  retorted  Hayward  with  ris 
ing  spirit;  and  he  went  into  details  in  a  way  to  take 
Jiminie's  breath.  Warming  up,  he  did  not  desist  on 
finishing  the  matter  in  dispute,  but  challenged  others 
of  Jimmie's  audacious  inaccuracies  and  proceeded  to 


216          THE    CALL   OF    THE    SOUTH 

straighten  them  out.  Jimmie  demurred  and  replied 
more  recklessly,  and  was  soon  in  a  rough  and  tumble 
discussion  covering  the  whole  field  of  college  excel 
lences.  He  found  he  was  no  match  for  Hayward 
either  in  information  and  enthusiasm  or  in  assurance. 
Before  the  argument  was  half  finished  the  footman 
was  talking  to  him  in  a  patronizing  and  fatherly  way 
that  pricked  him  like  needles.  He  did  not  relish  the 
idea  of  a  controversy  with,  much  less  being  routed  by, 
this  serving-man,  especially  in  the  presence  of  the 
young  women.  He  wished  the  girls  anywhere  else 
so  that  he  might  smother  the  lackey  with  a  sulphur 
ous  blast.  But  he  had  to  stand  to  the  losing  game 
while  Helen  and  her  friends  laughed  at  his  defeat  or 
waved  the  crimson  flag  and  cheered  the  Harvard  hits 
in  a  shrill  treble.  Helen  indeed  felt  some  com 
punctions  for  having  brought  about  the  situation, 
but  was  enjoying  Jimmie's  discomfiture  too  much  to 
end  it. 

Hayward  had  forgotten  he  was  a  lackey,  had  for 
gotten  he  was  a  negro,  had  forgotten  he  was  anything 
save  a  Harvard  man  proud  of  his  college,  proclaiming 
her  fair  record  with  love  and  joy,  confident  in  himself 
as  one  of  her  sons.  ..."  As  a  man  thinketh  .  .  . 
so  is  he."  .  .  .  The  occasion  was  trivial,  but  the 
transforming  power  of  thought,  its  triumph  over  cir 
cumstance,  was  strikingly  evidenced  in  the  footman's 
face.  Helen  noted  that  his  bearing  had  lost  every 
trace  of  conventional  or  conscious  servility,  that  he 
looked  easily  and  confidently  a  man,  calling  no  man 
master. 

After  harrying  Captain  Jimmie  enough  to  pay  off 
all  old  scores  they  gave  him  good-bye  with  a  final  yell 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          217 

for  the  crimson,  and  turned  the  launch  for  home.  In 
the  run  back  Helen  had  her  first  opportunity  to  notice 
the  pennant.  It  was  not  hers. 

"  Hayward,   whose  flag  is  this?" 

"  Mine,  Miss  Helen.  I  could  not  find  your  mother 
quickly,  and  I  brought  that  to  save  time." 

She  looked  from  the  flag  to  the  negro.  A  nebulous 
idea  floated  through  her  mind,  and  she  tried  to  fix 
it,  but  it  was  too  elusive.  She  put  Nell  and  Nancy  off 
at  their  landings,  and  tried  to  grasp  the  intangible 
explanation  that  was  hovering  about  her  brain.  It  was 
characteristic  of  her  to  prefer  working  out  her  own 
answers  to  looking  at  them  in  the  back  of  the  book. 
Finally,  however,  she  decided  she  did  not  have  a  full 
statement  of  the  problem. 

"When  did  you  go  to  Harvard,  Hayward?"  she 
ventured. 

"  Class  of  191 — ,  Miss  Helen." 

"  191 — .  Then  you  did  not  finish.  The  battle  of 
Valencia  was  — 

"  No,  Miss  Helen,  I  did  not  finish :  but  I  under 
stand  two  others  of  my  class  who  volunteered  were 
passed  on  the  spring  term's  work  and  graduated  by  a 
special  resolution  of  the  Overseers.  I  think  I  will 
apply  for  my  diploma  sometime  —  if  I  need  it." 

Hayward  spoke  lightly,  but  his  last  words  brought 
to  Helen  the  same  question  which  had  occurred  to  her 
so  often  in  the  last  year  since  she  had  discovered  in 
him  her  father's  rescuer.  They  only  made  the  ques 
tion  more  insistent. 

He  was  a  Harvard  man,  —  to  Helen's  mind  a  title 
of  all  excellence  and  dignity.  That  explained  much. 
His  intelligence,  even  his  physical  grace  and  soldierly 


218          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

courage,  seemed  to  fit  naturally  into  that  character. 
But  why  a  flunkey?  —  shirking  higher  duties  and  the 
honours  that  pertained  to  his  degree,  careless  of  the 
evidence  of  his  scholarly  merit,  putting  aside  the  re 
wards  of  his  soldierly  heroism. 

"Do  you  care  nothing  for  everything,  Hayward? 
—  except  this  flag?  You  seem  to  have  valued  it." 

"  It  is  the  one  possession  dearest  to  my  heart,"  he 
answered  in  simple  truth,  and  then  showed  the  first 
faint  trace  of  embarrassment  she  had  ever  seen  him 
exhibit 

"  Yes,  you  have  loved  the  Harvard  pennant  but 
concealed  your  Harvard  lineage.  You  champion  Har 
vard's  name  enthusiastically  against  Jimmie  Rad- 
wine's  gibes,  but  you  affect  to  be  careless  of  Harvard's 
diploma.  You  carry  the  Harvard  culture,  and  yet  - 
you  choose  to  be  a  footman." 

Hayward  winced.  Helen  tempered  the  thrust  by 
adding : 

'  You  do  a  soldier's  work,  but  decline  a  soldier's 
honours.  You  are  too  modest.  You  overdo  the  part." 

"  I  hope  yet  to  do  something  worthy  of  Harvard, 
Miss  Helen.  I  am  not  without  ambition,  however 
much  you  may  think  it.  Indeed  I  fear  I  have  too 
much  ambition." 

"  A  Harvard  man  need  set  no  limit  to  his  ambi 
tion."  Helen  spoke  with  the  wisdom  and  confidence 
of  youth  and  loyalty. 

The  launch  was  at  the  landing.  The  girl  climbed 
out  and  up  the  steep  stairs.  At  the  top  she  bethought 
herself  and  turned  about. 

"  Oh,  here's  your  '  heart's  dearest  possession/  "  she 
said  with  a  laugh,  and  she  pitched  the  little  crimson 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          219 

flag  down  upon  Hayward,  who  was  making  the  boat 
fast. 

The  man  looked  up  to  catch  the  flag  as  it  fell,  and 
memory  in  that  instant  worked  the  magic  which 
brought  the  scene  on  Soldiers  Field  clearly  before 
Helen's  mind.  She  knew  him  in  that  moment.  She 
gazed  at  him  without  speaking.  She  looked  at  the 
flag  and  then  at  him  —  once,  and  again.  All  the  in 
cidents  of  the  driving  finish  of  that  ever  memorable 
football  game  came  back  to  her,  bringing  to  her  pulses 
an  echoing  tremor  of  its  tense  excitement  and  wild  en 
thusiasm  and  her  unstinted  girlish  admiration  for  the 
player  who  had  saved  his  college,  her  Harvard,  from 
black  defeat. 

At  last  she  remembered  his  words  about  the  pen 
nant  which  she  had  quoted  to  him  a  moment  since. 
Her  cheek  flushed  and  she  was  in  two  minds  whether 
to  be  offended  or  amused.  Graham  saw  her  look  of 
surprised  recognition,  her  glances  at  the  pennant,  and 
read  the  significance  of  her  rising  colour.  He  felt  the 
presumption  of  his  very  presence,  and,  conscious  and 
guilty,  he  looked  abjectly  out  across  the  lake. 

The  man's  humility  went  far  to  mollify  Helen's 
anger  or  levity;  but  she  could  not  spare  him  entirely. 

"  So  you  prefer  another  name  to  your  own,"  she 
said.  "Why  is  that?" 

"  Oh,  no,  Miss  Helen.  I  am  not  ashamed  of  my 
name.  There's  no  reason  why  I  should  be.  I  —  " 

"  Then  why  use  another?  " 

"  My  name  is  John  Hayward  Graham.  I  am  using 
my  own,  but  not  all  of  my  own." 

"But  why  the  masquerade?  It  doesn't  look  well. 
What  have  you  done  to  be  afraid  of  your  full  name?  " 


220       THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

"  Nothing,  Miss  Helen,  I  declare  upon  honour.  I'll 
tell  you  the  whole  story.  You  have  been  kind  to  re 
spect  my  wishes  not  to  make  known  my  services  to 
your  father,  and  I'll  gladly  tell  you  all  about  it.  But 
I  must  go  now,  if  you  will  excuse  me?  Mrs.  Phillips 
ordered  the  carriage  for  five  o'clock  and  it's  nearly 
that  time  now." 

"  I'll  excuse  you,  Hayward,"  Helen  answered,  in 
tending  a  dismissal  of  the  subject  as  well  as  of  the 
servant. 


CHAPTER    XXI 

FOR  a  year  now  Helen  had  had  an  unconsciously 
growing  regard  for  her  footman's  mental  abilities  and 
for  his  gift  of  entertaining  her  with  his  tales  of  battle 
and  camp  and  other  incidental  themes  of  conversation 
which  at  odd  times  had  beguiled  the  moments  of  the 
past  summer  after  his  identity  had  been  revealed  to 
her  as  "  the  trooper  of  the  loth  "  of  her  father's  most 
thrilling  battle  story.  It  was  but  natural  that  conver 
sation  with  a  man  of  his  cultivation  of  mind  and  wide 
information  should  dull  the  sense  of  caste  and  supe 
riority  and  enhance  a  feeling  of  genuine  respect.  It 
was  only  occasionally  now  that  she  assumed  an  air  of 
command :  —  at  best  it  is  a  difficult  thing  to  patronize 
intellect. 

Helen  did  not  have  an  opportunity  to  hear  Hay- 
ward's  proffered  explanation  for  quite  a  long  time, 
and  she  cared  little  to  know  anything  further  of  it; 
but  her  attitude  of  mind  toward  him  had  changed. 
Formerly  she  sometimes  had  wondered  that  a  footman 
should  be  so  intelligent.  Finding  that  he  was  a  Har 
vard  man,  however,  had  reversed  the  problem.  It 
raised  him  to  a  level  of  respectability  above  his  calling, 
and  left  the  fact  that  he  was  a  serving-man  to  be  ac 
counted  for  as  anomalous.  That  he  was  a  negro 
counted  with  her,  of  course,  for  naught  one  way  or 
the  other.  He  was  nothing  less  than  a  footman. 

221 


222          THE    CALL   OF    THE    SOUTH 

However,  with  all  her  democratic  ideas,  she  was  a 
President's  daughter;  and  that  he  was  a  footman, 
until  it  was  explained,  and  even  after  it  was  explained, 

—  as  long,   in   fact,   as  he   remained   a    footman,  — 
would  cause  that  vacillation  between  anger  and  amuse 
ment  which  came  to  her  yet  with  the  remembrance  of 
his  embarrassed  declaration  that  her  pennant  was  his 
heart's   dearest    possession.  ...   She   was    somewhat 
annoyed  by  her  own  mild  self-consciousness  —  an  un 
usual  mental  state  for  her;   more  so  than  by  any  for 
wardness  on  the  man's  part  in  speaking  the  speech, 

—  for    there    had    been    nothing    of    that.  .  .  .  She 
would  not  think  of  it.  ...  Why  should  she  think  of 
it?     The  idea  was   ridiculous.     She  would  laugh  it 
away.   ...  Of  course  the  pennant  was  a  dear  posses 
sion  :    the  man  prized  it  as  a  memento  of  his  college 
life  and  his  daringly  won  victory.  .  .  .  Certainly,  it 
was  a  very  dear  possession :    she  had  similar  school- 
day    souvenirs    which    were    precious    to    her    heart 
though  recalling  moments  of  less  energy  of  loyalty 
and  wild  delirium  of  joy.  .  .  .  Besides  he  may  have 
meant,  he  could  have  meant,  nothing  personal  to  her 
self,  —  for  he  could  not  have  known  her  —  she  was 
nothing  more  than  a  child  seeing  her  first  great  foot 
ball  match  —  and  he  had  caught  but  a  glimpse  of  her 
in  all  that  yelling  throng  —  if  he  had  seen  her  at  all. 
...  It  would  be  a  miracle  if  he  remembered  her.  .   . 
And  yet  he  seemed  to  remember.  .  .  .  Though  why 
should  she  think  so?    He  had  said  nothing  to  indicate 
it.  ...  But  he  knew  —  she  was  sure  that  he  knew. 
.  .  .  And  what  if  he  did  know,  and  did  value  the  pen 
nant  on   that  account?     The  personal   consideration 
was   not  imperative.      Was   she   not  the    President's 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          223 

daughter,  and  would  not  any  man  deem  it  an  honour 
to  be  decorated  by  her  hand  or  high  privilege  to  carry 
her  flag?  The  lowest  menial  might  properly  take 
pride  in  her  approbation  and  set  great  store  by  a  token 
of  her  approval.  .  .  .  But  —  this  man  is  neither  low 
nor  menial,  for  all  his  servile  livery.  He  is  a  gentle 
man  by  every  token :  educated,  brave,  strong,  modest, 
self-sacrificing,  chivalrous.  It  is  hard  to  consider  him 
as  an  underling  —  a  footman.  .  .  .  And  why  is  he  a 
footman  ?  .  .  .  She  does  not  care  why  he  is  a  footman 
...  or  that  he  is  a  footman.  .  .  .  He  must  keep  his 
place. 


CHAPTER    XXII 

HELEN  was  taking  her  early  morning  ride.  She 
pulled  her  horse  up  sharply  and  waited  for  her  groom 
to  overtake  her. 

"  Why  are  you  a  footman,  Hayward?  " 

Hayward  was  startled.  The  girl  had  been  uncertain 
in  her  treatment  of  him  for  a  month,  and  he  was  ex 
pecting  anything  that  might  happen,  from  a  plain  dis 
charge  to  arrest  as  a  suspicious  character.  He  was 
confused  by  the  suddenness  of  the  question,  and  by 
the  peculiar  mingling  of  sympathy  and  impatience  in 
Helen's  voice. 

"  Who  are  you,  and  what  are  you  trying  to  do?" 

"  I  am  John  Hayward  Graham,  Miss  Helen,  as  I 
told  you  before.  I  am  a  footman  now  because  it  seems 
to  be  necessary.  I  did  not  intend  to  be  a  footman  so 
long  as  this  when  I  obtained  the  position."  Helen 
thought  she  detected  a  shade  of  embarrassment  again. 
"  But  after  I  was  employed  at  the  White  House  my 
mother's  health  gave  way  suddenly  and  she  could  no 
longer  support  herself  and  I  was  compelled  to  keep  the 
place." 

The  man  saw  that  he  was  making  an  awkward  mess 
of  it,  and  the  quick  intelligence  of  Helen's  eyes  showed 
him  her  inferences  were  all  adverse. 

"  Oh,  well,"  he  said,  "  I'll  begin  again.  It  took  all 
the  money  my  mother  had.  Miss  Helen,  to  pay  for  my 

224 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          225 

education  —  all,  and  more.  That  she  ever  met  the 
expense  of  my  tuition  has  been  a  miracle  to  me.  But 
she  did  it  —  insisted  upon  doing  it.  My  father  was  a 
Harvard  man.  He  died  when  I  was  two  years  old, 
leaving  as  his  only  admonition  the  injunction  that  I 
be  thoroughly  educated.  My  mother  was  faithful  to 
that  exhortation.  She  spent  her  meagre  fortune  and 
the  abundant  strength  of  her  life  to  the  last  cent  and 
almost  to  the  last  heart-beat  in  a  religious  obedience 
to  it." 

"  Your  mother  is  still  living?  " 

:'  Yes ;  and  please  do  not  think  I  was  so  ungrateful 
and  so  unfilial  as  purposely  to  wait  till  she  was  helpless 
before  lifting  the  burden  of  breadwinning  from  her 
shoulders.  I  was  in  five  months  of  graduation  when 
the  call  came  for  volunteers  in  the  spring  of  191 — ; 
yet  I  could  not  resist  that  call,  nor  would  my  mother 
have  me  resist  it." 

"  A  Spartan  mother/'  commented  Helen. 

"  My  grandfather  died  in  the  front  of  battle,  Miss 
Helen.  —  to  make  men  free.  My  father  was  a  soldier. 
The  first  bauble  that  I  can  remember  playing  with  as 
a  child  was  a  medal  of  honour  with  its  red,  white  and 
blue  ribbon  which  was  given  to  him  for  some  daring 
service  to  the  flag,  I  know  not  what.  That  medal  and 
his  good  name  was  all  that  he  left  to  me.  I  lost  the 
medal  before  I  knew  what  it  stood  for,  and  I  have 
temporarily  laid  aside  the  name  of  Graham ;  but  none 
the  less  is  the  memory  of  that  bronze  eagle-and-star 
an  inspiration  to  me  to  a  life  work  creditable  to  the 
name. 

"  When  I  enlisted  I  was  really  taking  a  large  finan 
cial  burden  from  my  mother,  and  if,  after  my  first 


226          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

term  of  enlistment  was  up,  I  was  unthinking  of  her, 
it  was  because  out  of  the  blood  of  my  fathers  and  my 
army  experience  had  been  born  a  life  ambition  which 
filled  all  my  thoughts  :  the  ambition  to  be  a  soldier.  I 
was  off  my  guard,  for  I  had  never  thought  of  my 
mother  as  having  a  human  frailty.  When  she  came  to 
place  herself  in  my  care  I  noticed,  as  I  had  not  a  month 
before,  how  far  spent  was  her  strength,  and  I  was 
alarmed  at  the  sudden  change  in  her  appearance.  This 
change  had  come  to  her  as  it  comes  to  many  —  with 
the  moment  of  her  surrender  to  the  inevitable.  Men 
and  women  may  stand  with  determined  and  unshaken 
front  against  the  assaults  of  weakness  until  it  wins  into 
the  very  citadel  of  their  strength  and  possesses  every 
thing  save  the  flag  which  flies  at  the  tower-top.  So 
with  my  mother :  she  had  stood  to  her  duty  till  there 
remained  of  her  wonderful  energies  only  her  unshaken 
resolution,  and  when  that  flag  was  hauled  down  there 
was  nothing  left  to  surrender." 

Everything  in  the  man's  tribute  to  his  mother  — 
sentiment  and  metaphor  —  appealed  to  Helen,  and  the 
tears  came  to  her  lashes. 

"  But  she  still  has  the  strength  to  be  vastly  ambi 
tious  for  her  son,  Miss  Helen.  Death  itself  will 
hardly  weaken  that.  She  talks  to  me  of  little  beside 
the  day  when  I  shall  be  an  officer  in  the  army." 

"  You  aspire  to  a  commission,  then?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  it  is  for  that  reason  that  I  desire  the 
President  shall  not  know  now  that  I  am  the  man  who 
carried  him  out  of  danger  at  Valencia.  I  know  that 
naturally  he  will  be  grateful,  and  I  wish  to  make  no 
draft  upon  his  gratitude  till  I  ask  for  that  commission. 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          227 

I  expect  much  difficulty,  and  I  wish  to  marshal  at  one 
moment  every  circumstance  in  my  favour." 

"  As  papa  says,  '  attack  with  horse,  foot  and 
guns,'  "  said  Helen. 

"  Yes,  that's  the  idea.  I  had  hoped  that  by  the  end 
of  a  second  term  of  enlistment  my  preparedness  to 
gether  with  your  father's  friendliness  and  a  growing 
liberality  in  public  sentiment  toward  men  of  my  race 
would  win  for  me  my  heart's  desire  —  a  lieutenancy 
of  cavalry." 

"  Your  race  will  not  count  against  you,  Hayward," 
said  Helen.  "  Papa  has  no  such  provincial  notions  as 
that.  And  I  am  sure  he  will  not  be  ungrateful." 

"  I  thank  you  for  the  assurance,  Miss  Helen.  Your 
father  is  my  ideal  of  a  fearless  and  just  man.  I  count 
more  upon  his  fearlessness  and  fairness  than  upon  his 
gratitude.  But  my  heart  is  too  keenly  set  on  realizing 
this  ambition  for  me  to  omit  to  enlist  any  favourable 
influence." 

"But  why  are  you  a  footman?"  Helen  repeated 
the  question  with  which  she  had  first  addressed  him. 

"  I  was  on  my  furlough,  Miss  Helen,  when  I  took 
this  place  temporarily,  fully  intending  to  re-enlist 
when  my  time  was  up;  but  my  mother's  break-down 
just  before  that  time  compelled  me  to  forego  re-enlist 
ment  and  to  hold  this  position  which  pays  a  wage 
sufficient  to  support  the  two  of  us.  A  soldier's  pay 
would  not  accomplish  it,  and  my  mother's  condition 
would  not  permit  me  to  leave  her.  However,  I  have 
not  thought  of  foregoing  my  career  as  a  soldier.  I 
am  studying  every  day  to  prepare  myself  for  the  duties 
of  an  officer.  My  Harvard  training  fortunately  sup- 


228          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

plies  me  with  all  but  the  purely  technical  knowledge 
required,  and  makes  it  possible  for  me  to  acquire  that 
without  assistance.  I  will  win  yet,  Miss  Helen." 

"  A  Harvard  man  must  win."  Helen  spoke  with 
dogmatic  faith. 

"  And  /  must  win,  —  not  only  a  commission,  but 
the  '  well-done  '  which  is  a  soldier's  real  recompense 
for  a  life-time's  service.  Not  only  my  '  Harvard 
lineage,'  as  you  once  called  it,  but  my  grandfather's 
death,  my  father's  life,  my  mother's  toil  and  sacrifice, 
lay  the  compulsion  of  endeavour  and  success  upon  me. 
My  mother  is  a  hopeless  invalid,  but  I  pray  she  may 
live  to  read  my  lieutenant's  commission.  I  have  con 
cealed  from  her  the  juggling  with  my  name.  I  - 

"  And  why  did  you  juggle  with  it?  " 

"  Some  pride  in  my  patronymic  and  in  that  very 
Harvard  lineage  would  not  permit  me  to  degrade 
either  by  becoming  a  footman  as  John  Graham." 

"  And  again,  then  :  why  are  you  a  footman  ?  You 
have  not  answered  that  question  yet.  Your  purposes 
in  life  are  admirable,  your  motives  are  —  beautiful, 
your  success  will  be  brilliant  I  earnestly  hope,  —  even 
more,  I  dare  to  prophesy;  and  I  shall  be  proud  to 
know,  when  your  name  is  famous,  that  I  gave  you  your 
first  flag;"  —  she  laughed  —  "but  why  did  you  be 
come  a  footman,  Hayward?" 

She  pulled  her  horse  up  to  wait  for  his  answer. 
Hayward  looked  steadily  in  her  eyes,  which  were  re 
garding  him  with  frank  inquiry,  until  a  quickness 
came  to  his  pulses  and  a  rashness  into  his  heart,  and 
by  his  gaze  her  eyes  were  beaten  down  and  the  colour 
brought  to  her  cheek. 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  229 

"  Why?  "  Her  voice  had  as  much  of  appeal  as  of 
demand. 

Hayward  caught  his  breath  quickly. 

"  You  have  read  Ruy  Bias,  Miss  Helen?  " 

"  No,"  Helen  answered.  "  What  has  that  to  do 
with  it?  " 

Hayward  had  the  same  sensation  as  when  in  the 
Venezuelan  campaign  he  had  first  keyed  his  nerves  for 
battle  at  sound  of  the  picket's  shots  only  to  have  the 
danger  pass.  Then  the  releasing  tension  had  been 
painful.  Here  it  was  grateful.  He  drew  a  breath  of 
relief.  He  was  very  glad  the  girl  had  not  read  of  Ruy 
Bias,  —  of  the  lackey  who  loved  a  queen. 

"  The  place  of  footman  was  the  only  position  open 
to  me.  I  applied  for  another  but  failed  to  get  it." 
He  ignored  the  question  and  through  this  lie  outright, 
told  in  words  of  perfect  truth,  he  made  a  precipitate 
retreat.  "  The  service  was  to  be  short,  and  it  gave 
me  an  opportunity  to  see  at  close  range  something  of 
the  man  upon  whom  my  hopes  so  much  depend,"  he 
added  as  an  afterthought. 

"  And  a  closer  view  has  not  dampened  your  hope?  " 
asked  Helen. 

"  No,  Miss  Helen.  Increased  it,  rather.  Your 
father  puts  heart  into  a  man.  His  broad  sympathies 
and  firm  principles  of  justice  inspire  one  to  the  highest 
and  best  that  is  in  him.  The  lofty  example  of  his 
courage  and  purity  and  effectiveness,  personal  and 
civic,  is  a  living  inspiration  to  the  nation." 

"  For  which  the  nation  is  indebted  to  your  hero 
ism,"  added  Helen.  "  For  myself  and  all  the  people 
1  thank  you." 


230          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

If  Hay  ward  had  been  white  he  would  have  blushed. 
The  personal  turn  Helen  gave  the  matter  left  him 
with  nothing  to  say.  He  sat  his  horse  abashed. 

A  stray  thought  of  her  dignity  flitted  across  Helen's 
mind.  She  drew  herself  up,  touched  her  horse  with 
the  crop,  and  rode  on.  Hayward,  at  the  command  of 
her  manner,  stiffened  into  attention  as  she  drew  away, 
and  followed  —  at  the  proper  distance. 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

HELEN  inherited  Bobby  Scott  when  the  real  men 
came  around. 

Elise  had  brought  Lola  DeVale,  Dorothy  Scott  and 
Caroline  Whitney  with  her  for  a  two-weeks  stay  at 
Hill-Top,  and  they  had  planned  for  a  breathing-spell 
in  which  they  hoped  to  be  rid  of  men  and  have  a  rest 
ful  girlish  good  time.  Bobby  Scott,  Dorothy's 
brother,  had  been  asked  to  come  because  he  was 
present  when  the  thing  was  first  proposed,  and  had 
accepted  —  much  to  Caroline's  disappointment.  But 
really  he  did  not  disturb  their  plans  very  much. 
Bobby  was  somewhat  young,  and  entirely  manage 
able  :  and,  as  said  before,  Helen  inherited  him  when 
the  real  men  came  along. 

And  they  came :  Hazard,  the  moment  Congress 
adjourned ;  Tom  Radwine,  every  minute  he  was  not 
asleep  after  he  knew  Caroline  Whitney  was  there; 
Captain  Howard,  after  three  days'  \vait  at  Newport; 
and,  for  a  day  and  a  half,  no  less  a  personag-e  than 
Senator  Richland.  The  Senator  had  a  heart  to  heart 
talk  with  President  Phillips  about  a  certain  matter  of 
politics,  but  he  deceived  no  one,  not  even  himself. 

Bobby  Scott  felt  his  importance,  for  the  reason  that 
he  and  the  Senator  were  entertained  at  Hill-Top.  He 
felt  that  he  was  in  a  position  of  vantage  and  really 
ought  to  profit  by  it.  But  the  ease  and  sang-froid  with 

231 


232          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

which  Tom  Radwine  always  relieved  him  of  Caroline 
was  not  only  exasperating  but  rather  confusing  to 
him.  Why  couldn't  Tom  look  out  for  Dorothy  ?  She 
was  not- his  sister;  and,  beside,  she  was  no  end  better 
looking  than  Caroline.  Here  came  Tom  now,  straight 
past  the  other  young  women,  to  disturb  his  tete-a-tete 
with  Caroline. 

"  Come  on,  Mr.  Scott,"  called  Helen,  "  we'll  go  and 
have  a  ride." 

Bobby  pretended  not  to  hear.  Helen's  assumption 
that  he  must  vacate  when  Radwine  appeared  nettled 
him.  He  liked  Helen  in  everything  save  that  she 
would  not  take  him  seriously.  He  sat  still,  determined 
to  hold  his  position  against  all  comers. 

"  I've  won  in  a  walk,"  said  Radwine  to  the  young 
woman.  "  It's  ten  minutes  yet  to  five  o'clock  —  good 
afternoon,  Mr.  Scott  —  oh,  I  am  all  sorts  of  a  win 
ner." 

Caroline's  answer  to  Radwine  was  just  as  meaning 
less  to  Bobby,  and  in  half  a  minute  without  the  slight 
est  discourtesy  on  the  part  of  the  others,  he  felt  that 
he  was  a  rank  outsider. 

"Are  you  coming,  Mr.  Scott?"  Helen  called  to 
him  again  —  and  Bobby  went. 

"If  you  will  excuse  me?"  -he  asked  Caroline's 
permission. 

"  Certainly,  if  you  must  go.  Take  good  care  of 
Helen.  She  is  so  young  and  venturesome." 

This  last  speech  in  a  measure  placated  Bobby's 
offended  notions  of  dignity,  and  he  and  Helen  went 
off  toward  the  stables,  where  Hayward  brought  the 
horses  out  and  put  the  saddles  on  while  Bobby  looked 
them  over. 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          233 

"  That  is  a  very  handsome  mount,"  he  said  to  Helen, 
indicating  Prince  William.  "  He's  a  dead  match  for 
the  horse  of  Lieutenant  Lavine,  of  the  Squadron." 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir,"  Hayward  interrupted  to  ask, 
"  what  squadron?  " 

"  Squadron  A,  New  York,"  Bobby  replied,  and  be 
gan  to  relate  to  Helen  some  incident  of  his  experience 
as  a  trooper  in  that  organization,  and  afterward  to  dis 
pense  general  information  as  to  horses  and  horseman 
ship.  He  would  not  have  been  so  garrulous  about 
these  things  perhaps  but  for  the  fact  that  his  member 
ship  in  Squadron  A  was  a  new  toy  from  which  the 
gilt  had  not  been  worn  off.  Hayward  listened  to  him, 
first  with  interest  and  then  with  wonder.  He  did 
not  know  the  young  gentleman  was  a  very  new  and 
very  raw  recruit  in  the  Squadron's  forces,  and  he 
came  near  dropping  a  saddle  at  some  of  Bobby's 
ebullitions  of  ignorance. 

"  This  knee,"  said  Bobby  with  a  look  of  concern  as 
he  ran  his  hand  down  Prince  William's  fore-leg, 
"  seems  to  be  slightly  swollen  You  should  be  careful 
to  guard  against  spavin.  It  is  a  serious  — 

The  negro  laughed  in  his  face  before  he  could  check 
himself. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?  "    demanded  Bobby. 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir,"  —  Hayward  pulled  his  face  into 
respectful  shape  —  "  spavin  is  a  disease  of  the  hock, 
not  of  the  knee.  The  Prince  struck  that  knee  against 
a  hub  on  the  carriage  this  morning.  No  damage  done, 
I  think,  sir.  .  .  .  They  are  ready,  ma'am." 

As  Mr.  Scott  prepared  to  mount  he  noticed  that 
Prince  William's  bridle  had  only  one  rein. 

"  Where  is  the  snaffle- rein  ?  "  he  asked  Hayward. 


234          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

"  The  curb  rein  was  broken  this  morning,  sir,  and  I 
haven't  another  yet.  I  changed  that  rein  from  the 
snaffle-rings  to  the  curb." 

"  Change  it  back,"  Mr.  Scott  directed.  "  He  will 
not  trot  with  the  curb." 

"  True,  sir,  he'll  not ;  but  the  Prince  has  not  been 
ridden  in  several  days,  and  he'll  be  hard  to  hold.  I 
think  you'd  better  use  the  curb,  sir." 

No  use  to  advise  Mr.  Scott.  He  had  heard  that 
your  true  cavalryman  delights  in  a  trot. 

"  Just  change  it,  will  you,"  he  commanded. 

The  footman  glanced  at  Helen  before  complying. 

"  Certainly,"  she  said ;  "  put  the  rein  on  the  snaffle- 
rings,  Hayward." 

Hayward  obeyed  and  they  were  off.  He  watched 
them  out  of  sight,  and  remarked  as  he  turned  into  the 
stable : 

"  What  he  doesn't  know  is  something  considerable." 

"  If  all  the  flunkeys  were  as  modest  and  respectful 
as  they  are  timorous,"  Bobby  said  to  Helen  as  they 
rode  off,  "  the  service  would  be  greatly  improved  the 
world  over.  And  if  they  were  as  full  of  courage  as 
they  are  of  conceit,  bravery  would  be  a  drug  on  the 
market.  I  believe  you  said  Hayward  is  your  foot 
man?" 

"  Yes,"  Helen  answered. 

"  That  explains  it.  These  coachmen  and  footmen 
become  so  accustomed  to  carriage  cushions  that  the 
saddle  is  an  uncertain  and  rather  fearsome  seat  for 
them.  Their  personal  fears  would  not  be  out  of  the 
way  if  they  would  not  impute  them  to  men  who  can 
ride." 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          235 

The  sparkle  of  interest  in  Helen's  eyes  encouraged 
Mr.  Scott  to  proceed. 

"  My  observation  has  been  that  the  under-classes 
do  not  ride  well  —  or  cannot  ride  at  all.  I  think  that 
riding  is  naturally  and  really  the  diversion  of  gentle 
men,  the  hoi  pollni  do  not  take  to  it." 

It  occurred  to  Helen  that  the  hoi  polloi  of  Bobby's 
town  of  New  York  had  not  the  money  with  which  to 
"  take  to  "  saddle-horses,  but  she  did  not  raise  the 
point.  Bobby  continued  to  talk. 

"  I  would  not  consider  my  education  complete  if  I 
were  not  accustomed  to  the  saddle.  I  think  that  many 
of  our  young  fellows  are  not  only  careless  of  a  most 
healthful  and  gentlemanly  sport,  but  are  recreant  to 
duty  as  citizens,  in  not  perfecting  themselves  in  feats 
of  arms  and  horsemanship.  What  is  it  that  Kipling 
says  in  lamenting  the  degeneracy  in  sterner  virtues  of 
the  gentry  of  Britain?  Something  like 

"  '  And  ye  vaunted  your  fathomless  power,  and  ye  flaunted  your 

iron  pride 
Ere  — ye  fawned  on  the  Younger  Nations  for  the  men  who  could 

shoot  and  ride.'  " 

"  Good  for  you,  Mr.  Scott.  I  did  not  imagine  you 
were  so  seriously  interested  in  Kipling  as  to  memorize 
his  lines.  He  is  fine,  though,  isn't  he?" 

"  Yes.  that  couplet  impressed  itself  upon  me  with 
out  effort  on  my  part.  It  appeals  to  me.  I  think  it  is 
a  disgrace  for  a  young  man  not  to  know  how  to  shoot 
and  ride.  Alas,  there  are  so  many  who  do  not.  Little 
wonder  that  I  am  asked  to  put  myself  within  the  pre 
cautionary  limitations  of  a  timid  flunkey." 


236          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

Helen  said  nothing.  She  saw  Mr.  Scott  was  deeply 
offended  because  he  had  known  so  little  about  spavin. 
His  dissertation  on  horsemanship  caused  her  to  note 
with  some  interest  his  manner  of  doing  the  thing.  As 
they  rode  along,  her  mare  in  a  slow  canter  and  Prince 
William  in  a  trot,  the  young  man  was  giving  a  faith 
ful  exhibition  of  the  method  taught  by  "  Old  Stir 
rups,"  the  Squadron's  riding-master ;  but  Helen  could 
see  that  he  was  keenly  conscious  of  every  detail  of  the 
process,  from  the  tilt  of  his  toes  to  the  crook  of  his 
left  elbow. 

Yet  Mr.  Scott  was  enjoying  the  ride —  no  doubt  of 
that.  Never  had  he  had  such  an  opportunity  to  parade 
his  pet  ideas  and  conceits,  and  never  had  he  had  such 
a  respectful  hearing.  At  last  the  younger  Miss  Phil 
lips  was  taking  him  seriously.  He  plumed  himself, 
and  essayed  a  more  elaborate  panegyric  on  manly  pre 
paredness.  Helen  permitted  him  to  do  all  the  talking. 

He  was  at  some  pains  to  instruct  her  in  the  art  of 
riding.  He  advised  her  how  to  hold  the  reins,  how 
to  make  her  horse  change  from  a  canter  to  a  trot,  then 
to  a  gallop,  how  to  change  the  step-off  in  the  gallop, 
and,  all  together,  passed  on  to  her  about  all  he  could 
remember  of  the  information  acquired  from  "  Old 
Stirrups."  It  was  imparted,  however,  after  the  man 
ner  of  first  hand  knowledge  born  of  large  experience. 
He  felt  that  he  was  living  up  to  Caroline's  admonition 
to  look  well  after  Helen,  and  was  gratified  that  the 
young  lady  received  his  coaching  with  such  beautiful 
humility  and  seriousness. 

"  This  is  the  best  part  of  the  Lake  Drive,"  Helen 
suggested  finally,  "  the  mile  from  here  to  '  The  Leap.' 
May  we  not  let  the  horses  go  a  little  ?  " 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          237 

"  Why,  certainly,  if  you  wish,"  Mr.  Scott  consented. 
"  Don't  be  nervous.  Just  keep  the  rein  tight  enough 
to  feel  her  mouth  firmly  so  she  won't  stumble,  and  let 
her  go  'long." 

Helen  clucked  to  her  mare  and  swung  into  a  mod 
erately  fast  gallop.  .  .  .  The  exhilaration  of  it  oc 
cupied  her  for  a  time,  and  then  she  noticed  Mr.  Scott 
was  not  altogether  comfortable.  The  Prince  was  pull 
ing  against  the  bit  in  a  stiff  trot  that  was  making  a 
monkey  of  the  young  man's  memorized  method. 
Helen  thought  that  the  riding  would  be  easier  for  him 
if  Prince  William  would  break  into  a  gallop,  and  she 
pushed  her  mount  to  a  faster  pace  in  order  to  make 
the  horse  break  over.  Feeling  perfectly  at  ease  in  her 
saddle,  she  unwittingly  urged  the  mare  faster  and 
faster  in  kindly  meant  effort,  till  finally  the  increasing 
speed  became  so  furious  that  she  was  a  bit  alarmed, 
and  pulled  in  on  her  bridle-rein.  Horror!  the  mare 
was  beyond  control ! 

The  horses  were  about  neck  and  neck,  with  Prince 
William  a  nose  in  the  lead  and  going  hard  against  the 
snaffle  in  a  trot  of  such  driving  speed  as  the  young 
Mr.  Scott  had  never  been  taught  to  negotiate.  He 
was  pulling  his  arms  stiff  against  the  smooth  bit,  but 
that  only  steadied  the  Prince  to  his  work.  Helen 
gave  a  despairing  pull  with  all  her  strength,  but  it  did 
not  affect  the  mare's  seeming  determination  to  over 
come  the  Prince's  lead.  She  called  to  her  escort. 

"Stop  her!     I  can't  hold  her,  Mr.  Scott!" 

Mr.  Scott  tried  to  reply,  but  his  effort  at  speech  re 
sulted  in  a  stutter  which  that  merciless  trot  jolted  from 
between  his  teeth.  .  .  .  He  could  not  help  her.  .  .  . 
His  own  emergency  was  more  than  he  could  meet.  His 


238          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

right  foot  had  been  shaken  from  its  stirrup,  and  could 
not  regain  it.  With  his  right  hand  he  held  in  grim  de 
termination  and  desperation  the  cantle  of  the  com 
bative  saddle  which  was  treating  him  so  roughly.  No, 
no  help  from  him. 

Helen,  riding  in  perfect  comfort,  though  at  a  fright 
ful  pace,  looked  toward  Mr.  Scott  to  see  why  he  gave 
no  aid.  She  saw  his  predicament  was  worse  than  hers. 
He  had  no  hand  to  offer  her.  He  needed  both  of  his, 
and  more.  .  .  .  She  remembered  her  footman  and 
his  lifting  her  from  her  falling  horse,  —  and  wished 
heartily  for  him  in  this  crisis.  She  realized  that  she 
must  save  herself,  and  with  that  to  reinforce  and  stiffen 
her  resolution  she  again  pitted  her  strength  and  will 
against  those  of  the  headstrong  mare.  Her  heart  sank 
when  she  thought  how  near  they  were  coming  to 
"  The  Leap,"  and  she  threw  every  ounce  of  will  and 
muscle  against  the  bit,  and  held  it  there. 

At  last,  as  if  with  a  knowledge  of  the  danger  just 
ahead,  the  mare  slowed  down.  But  the  madcap  Prince 
William  took  a  longer  chance. 

On  a  little  promontory  jutting  out  into  the  lake  the 
roadway  makes  a  sharp  turn  at  a  point  some  seven 
or  eight  feet  above  the  water  and  almost  overhanging 
it.  Helen  and  her  father  had  facetiously  named  it 
"  Lover's  Leap."  Prince  William  knew  as  much 
about  that  turn  as  Helen's  mare,  but  he  disdained 
caution.  He  was  a  bold  and  close  calculator,  —  for 
he  made  the  turn  by  a  hair's-breadth,  at  top  speed. 

Not  so  Mr.  Scott.  As  the  horse  swung  mightily  to 
the  left  the  rider's  momentum  pried  him  away  from 
the  saddle,  and  he  took  the  water  clear  of  all  obstacles. 
.  .  .  Helen,  close  behind  him,  but  already  relieved  of 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  239 

fear  for  herself,  felt  her  heart  stop  beating  when  the 
man  went  off  his  horse,  for  he  missed  a  tree  by  a 
dangerously  narrow  margin.  But  he  picked  himself 
up  unhurt  out  of  two  feet  of  water,  and  clambered 
up  to  the  driveway,  covered  with  humiliation  and  the 
friendly  lake  mud. 

Helen  had  been  too  thoroughly  frightened  to  laugh 
then,  but  she  preserved  in  memory  the  picture  of 
"  Bobby's  stunt,"  and  many  a  time  afterward  laughed 
at  it  till  the  tears  came.  For  many  moons  she  could 
not  think  of  Kipling  or  "  flaunting  an  iron  pride  " 
without  an  insane  impulse  to  giggle. 

Prince  William,  having  caused  all  the  distress,  after 
ward  acted  very  nicely  about  it.  He  permitted  himself 
to  be  caught,  and  carried  Mr.  Scott  back  to  Hill-Top 
in  the  most  manageable  and  equable  of  tempers.  Mr. 
Scott  himself,  however,  was  in  a  temper  entirely  other. 
Inwardly  he  was  choking  with  stifled  oaths,  for  in 
Helen's  presence  he  must  needs  be  decent  in  speech. 
He  began  at  once  to  berate  Hayward,  but  realized 
before  he  had  finished  a  sentence  that  he  could  not 
make  out  a  case  against  him,  and  he  saw  disapproval 
in  Helen's  face.  He  gave  it  over  as  a  situation  to 
which  no  words  were  adequate,  and  the  ride  home  was 
a  strenuous  essay  at  lofty  silence. 

Helen,  despite  her  rising  mirth  and  her  contempt 
for  Bobby's  puerile  desire  to  shift  the  blame  for  his 
mishap,  had  enough  pity  for  him  in  his  miserable 
plight  to  suggest  that  they  make  a  detour  and  ap 
proach  home  from  the  rear  side  and  avoid  the  eyes  of 
the  people  assembled  there.  Bobby  was  grateful  for 
the  suggestion.  It  promised  success.  That  Hayward 
should  see  him,  he  of  course  expected,  and  he  rode  up 


240  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

to  the  stable-door,  dismounted  and  handed  his  bridle 
to  the  footman  with  an  air  of  unconcern  and  assurance 
befitting  a  man  at  ease  with  himself  and  in  good 
humour  with  the  world.  Hayward  regarded  him 
calmly  from  head  to  heel,  but  did  not  betray  his 
flunkey's  role  by  so  much  as  the  tremble  of  an  eyelash. 
This  made  Mr.  Scott  angry.  He  had  expected  some 
thing  different,  and  had  prepared  a  very  dignified 
reproof. 

"  Damn  that  insufferable  negro.  Why  didn't  he 
laugh  outright?  "  he  growled  as  he  walked  around  the 
house.  Helen  had  run  away  as  soon  as  she  had  dis 
mounted  in  order  to  save  her  fast  toppling  dignity. 
Mr.  Scott's  flanking  movement  was  successful  and  he 
was  almost  safe  when  —  he  ran  plump  into  Caroline 
and  Tom  Radwine  on  the  side  porch.  Caroline's  out 
burst  brought  the  others  to  see  what  the  fun  was. 

"  Mis-ter  Scott !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  What  kind  of 
a  stunt  have  you  been  doing?  You  look  comical  to 
kill.  Oo  — ooh!" 

Bobby  took  on  a  sickly  grin  when  Caroline's  gaze 
first  fell  upon  him ;  but  when  she  called  him  comical 
it  was  a  serious  affair  at  once,  and  his  face  showed  it. 
Dorothy  rushed  up  at  that  moment. 

"  Oh,  Robert,  Robert!  "  she  cried,  putting  her  hand 
upon  his  shoulder,  "  what  have  you  done  ?  Tell  me. 
Are  you  hurt?  Have  you  been  pulling  Helen  out  of 
the  lake?"  A  glance  at  Helen  answered  that  ques 
tion.  "Well  what,  then,  you  precious  boy?" 

This  was  the  first  time  that  his  older  sister  had  ever 
complied  with  Bobby's  insistent  request  that  she  call 
him  Robert,  and  he  somehow  wished  she  hadn't. 

"  Oh,  Dorothy,  have  some  sense  —  let  me  go  —  I 


THE  CALL  OF  THE  SOUTH    241 

must  have  on  some  dry  clothes.  I  took  a  tumble  into 
the  lake  —  yes  —  that's  all." 

"  Next  time  you  decide  to  do  that,  Mr.  Scott,  I'll 
be  glad  to  loan  you  a  bathing-suit."  This  from  Tom 
Radwine  made  Bobby  mad  as  a  hornet. 

"  Took  a  tumble  into  the  lake,  you  say,  Mr.  Scott?  " 
asked  President  Phillips,  pushing  through  the  crowd. 
"  How  did  that  happen?  " 

"  I  was  riding  your  horse,  Prince  William,  sir,  and 
he  was  on  edge.  He  spilled  me  off  the  drive  into  the 
water  at  that  sharp  turn  a  couple  of  miles  up.  I  had 
only  a  snaffle-rein  and  could  not  hold  him." 

"  Only  a  snaffle-rein !  Why  I  would  never  think  of 
riding  that  rascal  myself  without  a  curb.  Hayward," 
he  called  to  the  footman,  who  was  passing,  "  what 
kind  of  carelessness  is  this  ?  —  your  sending  the  Prince 
to  Mr.  Scott  with  only  a  snaffle-rein?  You  know  very 
well  that  brute  cannot  be  controlled  without  a  curb. 
I'm  surprised  at  you.  Such  a  lack  of  sense  as  that  is 
almost  criminal.  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  your 
self.  Don't  repeat  that  performance  —  see  to  it  you 
don't!" 

As  Helen  was  standing  in  a  yard  of  her  father, 
Hayward  heard  this  stinging  rebuke  in  unalloyed  sur 
prise,  but  as  she  made  no  demur,  he  saluted  when  the 
President  was  done,  and  said  only : 

"Yes,  sir;    it  shall  not  occur  again,  sir." 

When  her  father  had  spoken  so  sharply  to  the  foot 
man  Helen  had  turned  to  Mr.  Scott,  expecting  him  to 
exonerate  Hayward;  but  Caroline  Whitney's  look  of 
genuine  sympathy  when  Mr.  Phillips  spoke  of  that 
brute's  being  uncontrollable  without  the  curb  bribed 
the  bedraggled  young  man  to  silence.  Helen  saw 


242          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

Caroline's  glance,  and  caught  the  reason  for  Bobby's 
lack  of  candour,  but  she  was  disgusted  with  him. 

She  was  uncomfortable  because  of  the  injustice  her 
silence  had  done,  for  she  was  of  an  eminently  fair 
mind :  and  she  told  her  father  the  whole  truth  of  the 
affair  at  the  first  opportunity.  .  .  . 

She  could  not  see  how  Hayward  bore  himself  so 
composedly  under  the  undeserved  rebuke.  If  he 
would  abase  himself  thus,  would  barter  his  self-re 
spect,  would  lick  the  hand  that  smote  him,  in  order 
that  he  might  obtain  his  commission  —  if  he  would 
sell  his  manhood  for  it  —  for  anything  —  he  would 
be  contemptible  in  her  sight.  .  .  .  Again  the  question 
came:  Why  was  he  a  footman?  She  could  not  re 
member  that  he  had  ever  answered  it.  Oh,  yes,  — 
the  idea  had  but  just  recurred  to  her  —  she  would 
read  Ruy  Bias. 

So,  on  a  long  summer's  afternoon  she  read  Ruy 
Bias  —  read  the  tale  of  the  love  of  a  flunkey  for 
his  Queen :  and  while,  when  the  idea  finally  dawned 
upon  her,  and  she  first  clearly  understood  the  sig 
nificance  of  it  all,  she  was —  But  let  us  not  detail 
that. 

Helen  and  Hayward  Graham  were  married  on  a 
day  in  late  October. 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

THE  chronicler  of  these  events  is  aware  that  to  the 
readers  of  this  history  the  bare  statement  of  the  fact 
that  Helen  and  her  footman  were  wed  comes  as  a 
shock.  Nevertheless,  it  was  a  plain  and  straightfor 
ward  path  by  which  a  careless  and  pitiless  Fate  had 
blindly  brought  Helen  to  her  husband.  A  girl,  tread 
ing  by  chance  such  a  way  as  has  been  followed  since 
the  world  was  young  by  the  feet  of  maidens  of  high 
degree  who  have  loved  below  their  station,  —  among 
the  accidents  and  incidents  of  her  romance  she  had 
come,  unwitting,  to  an  open  door,  an  ill-placed  door 
not  designed  for  her  passage,  a  "  door  of  hope  for  the 
negro  race  "  which  her  idolized  father  had  thought 
to  fashion  and  set  wide :  and  she  had  passed  it 
through  —  in  reverse. 

A  secret  marriage  was  not  characteristic  of  Helen's 
ideas.  She  was  betrayed  into  that  by  her  warm  im 
pulsiveness.  She  had  had  a  beautiful  programme  ar 
ranged  for  the  fates  to  follow  in.  With  a  heart  full 
of  love  and  of  dreams,  and  with  faith  in  a  future 
that  would  order  itself  at  her  bidding,  she  had  planned 
the  whole  course  of  events  that  should  lead  up  to  a 
resplendent  army  wedding  after  Hayward  had  won 
his  commission.  She  never  doubted  for  a  moment 
that  all  her  roseate  imaginings  would  come  to  pass, 
and  railed  upon  him  that  he  had  not  her  faith :  for 

243 


244          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

Hayward  was  a  doubter.  The  sheer  altitude  of  his 
good  fortune  made  him  fearful  and  distrustful.  .  .  . 

For  the  twentieth  time  she  told  off  to  him  on  her 
finger-tips  the  order  in  which  his  fortune  should 
ascend. 

— "  And  then,  when  you  are  an  officer  —  and 
famous  —  you  will  marry  —  me." 

"  But  that  may  never  be,"  the  man  had  answered. 
"  Suppose  the  Senate  should  refuse  to  confirm  my 
nomination?  By  your  condition  I  should  lose  the 
commission  and  —  infinitely  more  —  you.  If  your 
love  and  faith  are  supreme  you  will  marry  me  whether 
I  win  or  lose." 

"  You  shall  not  doubt  my  love  or  faith,"  Helen 
exclaimed  impetuously.  "  I  will  marry  you  now,  and 
as  the  President's  son-in-law  you  can  the  more  surely 
succeed.  The  Senators  would  not  offer  a  personal 
affront  to  —  " 

"  But  I  must  bring  this  honour  to  you,  not  you  to 
me,"  Hayward  interrupted ;  "  and,  besides  that,  while 
I  willingly,  gladly,  here  and  now,  surrender  all  hope 
of  this  commission  for  ever  and  for  ever  if  only  you 
will  marry  me  now,  it  is  only  fair  to  you  for  me  to 
remind  you  that  your  father  would  never  appoint  his 
own  son-in-law  to  a  lieutenancy  in  the  army." 

"  Oh,  bother !  "  Helen  protested.  "  I  have  my  heart 
set  on  being  a  soldier's  wife !  Of  course  papa  couldn't 
give  a  commission  to  one  of  his  family  —  what  was  I 
thinking  about.  .  .  .  Well,  there's  nothing  to  do  but 
wait,  I  suppose." 

"  And  it  may  be  an  endless  wait  if  the  commission 
is  to  come  first,"  Hayward  reiterated.  "  It  was  an 
awful  temptation  to  silence  a  moment  ago  when  you 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          245 

said  you'd  marry  me  now,  but  I  could  not  trick  you 
into  it,  knowing  how  much  you  desire  that  commis 
sion." 

Helen's  mind  worked  rapidly  for  half  a  minute. 

"But  I  lifill  marry  you  —  and  now!"  she  cried. 
The  girl's  romantic  spirit  was  aroused  and  her  spon 
taneous,  unsophisticated  feminine  ideal  of  love  was  in 
the  ascendant.  "  I  will  prove  my  love  and  faith.  I 
will  marry  you  now,  and  you  may  claim  me  when  you 
have  won  your  laurels.  Let  the  Senate  refuse  you  a 
commission  if  they  dare!  " 

"  And  would  you  be  willing  to  trust  me  to  keep  that 
secret?  "  Hayward  asked.  "  I  almost  would  be  afraid 
to  trust  myself  —  I  would  want  to  yell  it  from  the 
housetops!  Married  to  you  and  not  tell  it!  Why, 
it  would  just  tell  itself  to  any  open-eyed  man  who 
looked  at  me." 

"  No,  no,"  Helen  answered.  "  I'm  willing  to  trust 
you.  It's  a  hardship  that  cannot  be  avoided,  and  we 
must  make  the  best  of  it." 

"  And  now,"  Helen  had  given  her  husband  a  last 
laughing  admonition,  "  since  we  must  be  clandestine 
against  our  wills,  let's  be  romantic  to  the  last 
most  fiercely  orthodox  degree.  No  love-lit  glances 
or  conscious  looks.  You  be  a  perfect  footman  with 
that  indifferent  and  superior  and  high-and-mighty 
air  while  you  can,  for  when  your  bondage  actually 
begins  you  will  never  swagger  again ;  and  I  will 
be  so  haughty  as  almost  to  spurn  your  very  pres 
ence.  We  must  make  no  foolish  attempts  at  con 
versation,  and  when  we  write  must  deliver  our  let 
ters  personally  into  the  hand,  not  trusting  even 


246          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

the  mails  with  our  secret.  And  then,  when  you  be 
come  an  officer  we  will  give  the  dear  people  the 
surprise  of  their  lives.  My!  won't  it  be  fun  to  see 
them!  And  it  may  be  that  when  the  time  conies  we 
will  not  tell  them  that  we  are  already  married,  but 
will  have  another  ceremony,  a  brilliant  army  affair 
such  as  I  have  set  my  heart  on.  Wouldn't  that  be 
gorgeous !  " 

"  I  hardly  would  have  acquaintances  enough  among 
the  officers  to  provide  my  share  of  the  attendants," 
Hayward  answered. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  would.  You  would  make  then  fast 
enough,"  the  girl  replied.  "  An  American  army 
officer  has  the  entree  everywhere  —  I've  heard  papa 
say  so  a  score  of  times  —  and,  besides,  Mr.  Humility, 
I  suppose  that  my  friends  among  the  officers  would 
be  numerous  enough  to  fill  all  vacancies." 

Hayward  saw  clearly  wherein  his  wife's  forecasts 
were  faulty ;  but  it  profited  nothing  to  take  issue  with 
her  enthusiasms  and  he  gladly  joined  in  them.  She 
was  his  wife  —  that  could  not  be  changed;  and  he 
felt  that  with  that  a  fact  accomplished  he  reasonably 
might  work  for,  and  hope  for,  and  expect,  anything. 
He  returned  to  his  work  in  the  city,  therefore,  over 
flowing  with  happiness  and  pride.  It  was  not  surpris 
ing  that  as  a  White  House  footman  he  was  more  than 
ever  the  subject  of  notice  and  comment,  for  never  one 
carried  a  perfect  physique  with  such  an  air.  If  his 
confident  swing  and  tread  had  been  the  expression  of 
personal  vanity,  it  had  been  insufferable;  but  love  is 
not  insolent,  nor  its  struttings  offensive. 

Hayward  was  on  good  terms  with  the  world.  For 
the  first  time  he  accepted  the  overbearing  manner  of 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          247 

superiority  of  white  men  with  complacency  and  even 
with  amusement.  His  time  was  coming  —  he  could 
wait.  He  went  so  far  as  almost  to  invite  affronts 
from  several  negroes  of  more  or  less  prominence,  who 
had  aforetime  rebuffed  his  advances,  in  order,  as  it 
were,  to  keep  their  offences  in  pickle  so  that  their 
chagrin  might  be  more  keen  when  the  day  of  his  ele 
vation  should  come.  He  was  at  particular  pains  to 
keep  Henry  Porter's  opposition  going,  and  smiled 
when  he  thought  how  thoroughly  he  would  pay  him 
off  in  his  own  coin. 

For  a  few  weeks  he  put  himself  with  buoyant  deter 
mination  to  the  regular  study  of  his  text-books,  which 
he  had  theretofore  read  with  more  or  less  intermittent 
interest,  and  began  to  lay  out  plans  for  the  political 
campaign  which  would  be  necessary  to  bring  about  the 
issuing  and  confirmation  of  his  commission.  He  ar 
ranged  with  a  personal  friend,  a  lawyer  in  New 
Hampshire,  for  the  transmission  of  all  correspondence 
and  papers  relating  to  the  matter  in  the  name  of  John 
H.  Graham  through  this  lawyer's  hands,  —  thus  to 
conceal  from  the  President  even  after  the  request  for 
the  appointment  had  been  made  the  fact  that  his  foot 
man  was  the  applicant. 

The  thinking  out  and  arranging  of  these  details  and 
the  first  rush  of  his  attack  upon  his  military  studies 
engrossed  him  for  a  month  or  more  in  every  moment 
he  was  off  duty.  So  closely  did  he  hold  himself  that 
Lily  Porter  reproved  him  gently  for  his  remissness 
several  times  before  he  made  his  first  call  upon  her. 
He  was  really  working  very  hard  —  in  his  leisure 
hours.  He  had  completely  reversed  the  order  of  work 
and  diversion.  To  the  one-time  monotony  of  his  daily 


248          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

tasks  he  was  now  held  by  the  fascination  of  chance 
moments  of  speech  —  most  often  conventional,  occa 
sionally  personal,  always  delightful  —  with  the  radi 
ant  young  woman  his  wife,  upon  whom  even  to  look 
in  silence  was  enough  to  send  his  blood  a-leap.  Every 
day  from  the  very  first  he  took  time  from  his  work 
of  preparation  to  write  to  her.  .  .  .  The  habit  grew. 
At  first  briefly,  though  always  with  fervent  protesta 
tions,  and,  as  the  days  and  weeks  ran  on,  more  and 
more  at  length  and  with  livening  heat  did  he  put  his 
heart-beats  in  his  letters.  .  .  .  The  habit  grew  too 
fast.  By  the  time  that  Congress  met  and  the  currents 
of  the  great  capital  were  in  full  swing,  the  forces  of 
Hayward's  love  had  eaten  into  his  ambition's  bounda 
ries  and  the  time  that  he  gave  to  thoughts  of  Helen, 
and  in  seeking  variant  and  worthy  phrases  in  which  to 
indite  his  passion,  more  than  equalled  that  in  which 
he  worked  to  earn  those  things  which  by  her  decree 
should  precede  possession  of  her.  ...  It  was  hard 
not  to  stop  and  think  of  her.  He  wrote : 

"  You  disturb  me  in  my  work.  You  ride  ruthlessly 
through  the  plans  of  battle  and  campaign  my  text 
books  show,  and  make  sixes  and  sevens  of  them.  At 
sight  of  you  the  heaviest  lines  of  battle  dissolve  into 
thin  air  and  into  mist  the  fastest  fortress  falls.  At 
the  coming  thought  of  you  brigades  and  armies  melt 
away,  and  your  face  stands  out  a  radiant  evangel  of 
peace,  the  very  thought  even  of  wars  and  turbulences 
dispelling.  .  .  .  What  am  I  to  do?  I  cannot  chain 
myself  to  study  the  science  of  strife  when  this 
heavenly  vision  is  calling  me  —  and  it  is  ever  calling 
—  to  love  and  love  only.  ...  I  am  fully  persuaded 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          249 

there  is  only  one  thing  worth  thinking  on  in  all  the 
earth  —  and  that  is  you." 

His  wife's  letters  were  all  that  mortal  man  could 
desire,  but  only  the  more  distracting  for  all  that. 
They  were  always  short,  but  grew  in  warmth  as  the 
sense  of  freedom  grew  upon  the  writer.  Hayward 
devoured  them  with  increasing  hunger,  and  with  the 
ever-recurring,  never  varying  signature,  "  Your  wife," 
spark  upon  spark  of  impatience  was  enkindled  with 
his  love.  Finally  he  must  of  very  necessity  have  some 
vent  for  his  restlessness.  He  sought  diversion  in  the 
society  of  Lily  Porter.  In  fact  he  could  with  difficulty 
avoid  her:  she  too  had  set  her  heart  on  an  army 
wedding. 

Hayward  had  only  the  very  kindliest  of  purposes 
toward  Lily.  He  had  continued  his  correspondence 
with  her  during  the  summer.  For  the  sake  of  his 
plans  unfolded  to  her  in  their  last  meeting  before  his 
going  away  he  could  not  break  abruptly  away  from 
her  —  though  the  task  of  remaining  on  friendly  terms 
and  yet  not  proceeding  with  the  suit  so  nearly  openly 
avowed  was  a  serious  tax  upon  his  resources  and  in 
genuity.  In  his  apprehension  "  the  fury  of  a  woman 
scorned  "  loomed  fearful  and  threatening.  The  object 
of  his  apprehensions,  on  the  other  hand,  while  she  felt 
rather  than  saw  the  subtle  change  in  him,  was  yet 
flattered  by  his  unaccustomed  submissiveness  to  her 
caprices  and  experienced  delightful  thrills  of  expect 
ancy  as  she  waited  for  a  trembling  confession  to 
crown  his  new-found  humility. 

"  Lily,"  her  father  had  said  to  her  on  a  morning 


250          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

after  one  of  Hayward's  scattered  visits,  "  I  tol'  you 
once  to  drop  that  feller  and  I  hoped  you'd  done  it. 
Understan'  I  don'  want  any  footman  comin'  here. 
We  ain't  in  that  class.  You  ought  to  have  mo'  respec' 
for  yourse'f.  What  you  want  with  a  servant  hangin' 
roun'  you  when  you  can  take  your  pick  of  the  pro 
fessional  men  in  town,  I  can't  see." 

"  Don't  worry  about  me,  papa,"  the  girl  sang  as 
she  danced  over  to  the  piano,  "  I'll  wed  a  military-tary 
man." 

"  Well,  thank  Heaven  you  ain't  got  no  idee  of  mar- 
ryin'  that  Hayward.  I'll  make  it  wuth  while  for  you 
to  marry  a  professional  or  a  military  man  either  one, 
but  none  of  my  money  for  a  footman,  I  tell  you  now." 

"  No  footman  for  me  either,  papa.  I'll  not  marry  a 
footman,  I  promise  you.  I  tell  you  I'm  thinking  of 
a  military  man." 

"  Not  that  Ohio  major  who  was  here  with  the 
troops  at  the  inauguration?  I'd  forgot  all  about 
him,"  her  father  questioned. 

"  He's  not  the  only  soldier  in  sight,  but  don't  you 
think  he  would  do  in  a  pinch  ?  "  Lily  had  forgotten 
about  him  too,  till  her  father  mentioned  him. 

"  I'd  better  look  into  that  and  see  what  sort  of  a 
feller  he  is,"  said  the  father  jokingly,  greatly  relieved 
in  mind. 

"  Maybe  you  had,"  the  daughter  replied  insinua 
tingly. 

Lily  had  as  many  aristocratic  notions  as  her  father. 
More,  in  fact.  Her  promise  was  sincerely  given.  It 
was  only  when  Hayward  had  told  her  of  his  purpose 
and  prospect  of  becoming  an  officer  that  he  had  broken 
through  her  reserve.  While  she  had  always  liked  him 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          251 

she  had  never  had  any  idea  of  marrying  a  footman. 
But  an  officer  in  the  army !  —  she  would  have  capitu 
lated  on  that  evening  she  heard  his  story  but  for  her 
father's  timely  appearance.  The  idea  had  grown  upon 
her  since,  and  she  loved  to  reflect  upon  it  and  plan  for 
the  outcome ;  though  she  had  had  time  to  collect  her 
thoughts  and  decide  not  to  precipitate  or  render  a 
final  decision  till  the  commission  was  in  the  footman's 
name.  She  really  had  to  hold  herself  firmly  in  hand 
to  manage  it  so,  for  she  loved  the  young  fellow  with 
a  whole-hearted  fervour,  and  of  his  love  for  her  she 
was  blissfully  assured. 

The  girl  was  developing  quite  an  interest  in  military 
matters.  In  one  of  their  not  unusual  discussions  of 
Hayward's  career  it  was  arranged  that  at  his  first  con 
venient  opportunity  he  should  accompany  her  out  to 
Fort  Myer  to  see  a  parade.  Hayward  went  for  her 
on  his  first  half  holiday  —  rather,  he  went  with  her, 
for  she  drove  him  out  in  her  own  stanhope.  As  they 
were  turning  a  corner  they  were  halted  for  a  moment 
in  a  knot  of  vehicles.  Lily  was  driving  and  Hayward 
was  talking  to  her  with  so  much  interest  in  her  and 
in  what  he  was  saying  to  her  that  he  was  oblivious  to 
the  things  about  them.  .  .  .  He  was  accustomed  to 
sit  quiet  and  indifferent  while  another  driver  solved 
the  problems  of  the  streets.  .  .  .  The  first  thing  that 
diverted  his  attention  from  the  girl  beside  him  was 
the  small  red-white-and-blue  White  House  cockades 
on  the  headstalls  of  a  pair  of  horses  just  drawing 
ahead  of  Lily's  cob.  He  glanced  quickly  across  to  the 
carriage  —  and  met  the  full  gaze  of  his  wife's  eyes. 
She  was  sitting  on  the  front  seat  of  the  landau  facing 
to  the  rear,  and  her  eyes  were  upon  him  for  a  half 


252          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

minute  at  very  close  range.  Helen  looked  away  sev 
eral  times  in  her  effort  to  be  unconscious  of  his  pres 
ence.  But  she  could  not  be  perfectly  oblivious  or  with 
hold  her  glances  altogether.  She  had  heard  the  very 
speech  —  the  very  gallant  speech  —  Hayward  was 
making. 

Lily  looked  about  to  find  the  cause  of  collapse  in  her 
escort's  talk,  and  saw  the  man's  peculiar  look  at 
Helen,  whom  she  knew  by  sight.  She  accounted  for 
his  confusion  at  once,  but  the  blush  that  came  to  the 
young  Miss  Phillips'  cheek  and  her  evident  self-con 
sciousness  were  so  unaccountable  as  to  be  puzzling. 
She  searched  Hayward's  face  keenly  for  an  explana 
tion  of  his  young  mistress's  behaviour  —  and  he  did 
not  bear  the  scrutiny  with  entire  nonchalance.  Lily 
felt  insulted  in  a  way. 

"  I  hope  she  will  know  us  next  time  she  sees  us," 
she  said  snappishly. 

No  answer  from  Hayward;  though  he  felt  like  a 
traitor  for  letting  the  implied  criticism  go  unchal 
lenged. 

"  You  must  hurry  and  get  your  commission.  It 
seems  to  disturb  the  fine  lady  to  see  her  footman  en 
joy  the  privileges  of  a  gentleman.  No  doubt  she 
thinks  it  impertinent  for  a  servant  to  deal  in  gallant 
speeches  at  all,  especially  such  a  beautiful  sentiment 
as  she  must  have  heard  you  speaking." 

Lily  had  hit  the  mark  in  the  centre  —  but  of  course 
she  did  not  know  it.  That  finely  turned  sentiment 
which  he  had  thrown  out  with  such  impromptu  grace 
and  rhetorical  finish  was  taken  word  for  word  from 
his  last  letter  to  his  wife,  and  he  had  puzzled  his  brain 
for  an  hour  in  the  choosing  and  setting  of  the  dozen 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          253 

words  in  which  it  sparkled.  There  was  nothing  par 
ticularly  personal  in  that  dozen  words,  but  how  was 
Helen  to  know  but  that  they  had  been  strung  upon  the 
same  thread  in  the  man's  conversation  with  his  un 
known  companion  as  they  were  in  the  letter  lying  at 
that  moment  upon  her  own  bosom. 

Hay  ward  did  not  enjoy  the  afternoon  with  Lily. 
He  had  hoped  Helen  had  not  heard  what  he  was  say 
ing,  but  Lily's  statement  of  opinion  that  she  had  heard 
seemed  to  put  the  matter  beyond  doubt.  He  came 
home  quite  disturbed  in  mind.  He  debated  to  him 
self  whether  to  write  to  Helen  or  wait  for  her  answer 
to  his  last  letter.  He  decided  not  to  plead  till  he  was 
accused. 

With  the  next  morning  came  —  no  letter.     Night 

—  no    letter.      Another    morning  —  no    letter.      He 
wrote : 

"  Why  do  you  not  write  to  me  —  and  why  is  your 
face  so  cold  ?  " 

The  answer  came:  "Who  is  that  woman?  She  is 
not  your  sister  —  for  your  sister  would  not  look  at 
you  like  that  —  no,  nor  would  you  look  at  your  sister 
like  that  —  nor  would  you  say  such  a  speech  to  your 
sister.  Who  is  she?  And  what  right  has  such  a 
woman,  what  right  has  any  woman  to  hear  what  your 
letters  have  said  to  me?  That  sentiment  is  mine  — 
you  gave  it  to  me.  It  is  mine,  mine  —  do  you  under 
stand  ?  —  and  you  take  it  and  fritter  it  away  on  that 

—  who  is  she?     Keep  away  from  her." 

"  The  woman  is  a  very  good  friend  of  mine,"  Hay- 
ward  wrote  in  reply,  "  and  nothing  more.  The  words 
you  overheard  were  spoken  to  her,  I  swear  to  you, 
in  no  such  connection  as  they  were  written  in  my  letter 


254          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

to  you.  If  I  had  thought  that  you  would  so  value 
them  and  consider  them  your  very  own  I  never  would 
have  '  frittered  them  away  '  on  any  person,  believe  me. 
Do  be  forgiving  and  remember  that  men  are  not  so 
finely  wrought  as  women.  Only  a  woman  —  only 
you,  the  most  finely  wrought  of  women  —  ever  would 
have  conceived  such  a  nicety  of  conduct  for  a  lover. 
There  are  good  reasons  why  I  cannot  keep  away  from 
the  young  lady  as  you  request.  I  wish  I  could,  since 
you  desire  it.  She  is  Miss  Lily  Porter,  and  a  most 
estimable  young  woman.  I  am  indebted  to  her  for 
very  much  that  goes  to  make  life  bearable.  She  is  a 
great  musician  and  has  filled  with  pleasure  for  me 
many  an  hour  that  otherwise  would  have  been  monot 
onous  and  dead.  Please  do  not  decree  that  I  shall 
not  hear  her  sing.  To  listen  to  her  is  such  a  cooling, 
refreshing  oasis  in  the  dry-hot  barrenness  of  a  worka 
day  life ;  and  I  declare  to  you  my  love  for  you  grows 
warmer  if  possible  in  hearing  the  ballads  that  she 
sings,  and  to  the  lullabies  she  hums  so  beautifully  I 
dream  alone  of  you.  Believe  me  when  I  swear  that 
nothing  can  affect  the  perfect  singleness  of  my  devo 
tion,  —  and  let  your  face  shine  upon  me.  It  was  so 
cold  yesterday  that  a  most  horrible  dream  came  to  me 
last  night :  they  were  hunting  us  with  bloodhounds 
to  take  you  away  from  me !  Just  think,  I  have  not  so 
much  as  touched  your  hand  since  the  preacher  so  hur 
riedly  made  us  one  —  only  your  eyes  have  been  mine, 
and  now  you  withdraw  them  from  me !  Oh,  my  queen, 
smile  upon  me !  " 


CHAPTER    XXV 

HELEN'S  reply  to  Hayward's  pleading  letter  was 
for  the  most  part  reassuring  and  he  felt  that  the  in 
cident  of  the  drive  with  Lily  Porter  was  closed :  but 
the  pains  of  love  were  only  beginning  to  be  upon  him. 

Helen's  letters  grew  briefer  and  briefer.  There 
was  no  lack  of  affection  shown  in  them,  but  the  ex 
pression  was  not  so  elaborate  as  at  first.  She  was  in 
the  rush  of  preparation  for  her  debut,  and  less  and  less 
was  she  free  to  write.  Occasionally,  as  if  in  specific 
answer  to  his  prayer  and  to  atone  for  her  shortcom 
ings,  she  smiled  upon  him  with  such  warmth  that  his 
heart-hunger  was  appeased.  Only  for  a  space,  how 
ever,  did  that  satisfy.  The  desire  came  back  with 
redoubled  fury  the  instant  the  intoxication  was  off. 

Like  any  other  sufferer  from  intoxicants  he  had 
his  periods  of  depression.  In  such  moments  he  felt 
that  his  marriage  was  a  mockery,  that  Helen  was  not 
his,  would  never  be  his,  could  never  be  his.  Long 
odds  were  against  his  getting  his  commission  —  even 
if  the  President  signed  it  the  Senate  would  never  con 
firm  it.  The  fight  would  be  too  long,  and  the  issue 
hopeless  —  he  could  not  win  —  his  colour  was  too 
great  a  handicap  —  curse  it !  A  negro,  —  yes,  a  negro 
—  and  white  men  so  insufferably  unjust  to  a  negro  — 
curse  them  all !  —  curse  the  whole  white- faced  race ! 
—  save  only  her  —  she  was  his  —  yes,  she  was  his  — 

256 


256          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

his  by  love  and  law  —  they  could  not  take  her  from 
him,  and  he  would  have  her  yet  despite  the  whine  of 
all  the  purblind,  race-proud  Senators  who  might  op 
pose  his  confirmation  —  curse  them  all !  curse  them 
all!! 

Such  moods  were  happily  intermittent.  Again  he 
was  himself  —  a  man  among  men  —  already  a  win 
ner  —  the  crowned  king  of  Helen's  heart  —  the  Presi 
dent's  son-in-law.  Away  with  doubt!  To  whom  so 
much  had  come  with  ease  everything  would  come  with 
effort.  Confidence  uplifted  him. 

Helen's  debut  was  an  event  of  note.  No  need  for 
her  to  be  the  President's  daughter  to  make  it  so.  Her 
sensational  beauty  needed  not  the  stamp  of  official 
rank  to  give  it  currency,  nor  the  sparkle  of  her  man 
ner  and  speech  any  studied  purpose  to  give  them 
vogue.  Dominion  came  to  her  by  divine  right  of 
beauty  and  wit  and  ingenuous  girlish  honesty. 

In  the  stately  East  Room,  dressed  but  not  over 
dressed  for  that  occasion  in  palms  and  ferns  and 
flowers,  beside  her  mother  for  two  hours  she  stood, 
the  fairest,  loveliest  flower  that  ever  graced  that  his 
toric  hall,  and  received  the  new  world  which  came  to 
take  her  to  itself.  Gowned  in  simplicity  and  maiden 
white  —  with  the  flush  of  unaffected  joy  in  her  cheeks 
and  the  sparkle  of  genuine  youth  in  her  gray  eyes  — 
with  the  splash. of  October  sunsets  in  her  dark  hair  — 
with  a  skin  white  and  clear  as  purity,  but  shot  through 
with  the  evanescent  glows  and  tints  of  health  —  with 
neck,  shoulders  and  arms  rising  from  her  gown  like 
a  half-opened  lily  from  its  calyx  —  lissome  and  grace- 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          257 

ful  indeed  as  a  lily-stem  —  virginal  freshness  in  mind, 
manner  and  person :  she  was  a  May-day  morning. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Senator  Ruffin  as  he  bowed  low 
over  her  hand,  "  may  an  old  man  who  admired  your 
grandmother  in  her  youth  presume  to  express  the 
extravagant  wish  that  you  may  be  as  happy  as  you 
are  beautiful !  " 

"  And  may  a  young  man,"  said  Senator  Rutledge, 
close  following  Mr.  Ruffin,  "  who  has  the  orthodox 
faith  that  perfect  happiness  is  found  only  in  heaven, 
express  the  hope  that  the  full  consummation  of  Sen 
ator  Ruffin's  wishes  for  you  may  be  long  delayed  ?  " 

"  And  may  you  both  live  to  repent  of  trying  to 
turn  a  young  girl's  head,"  Helen  replied,  making  them 
a  curtsey. 

"  Once  on  a  time  I  warned  you  against  the  day 
when  such  speeches  would  be  made  to  you,"  said  Rut- 
ledge,  "  and  you  have  grown  even  more  astonishingly 
into  the  danger  than  the  eye  of  prophecy  could  per 
ceive.  I  warn  you  again.  Senator  Ruffin  spoke  only 
the  words  of  soberness,  as  befits  his  age  and  station, 
but  wait  you  till  ardent  youth  tells  you  what  it  thinks 
—  and  you  will  have  to  hold  your  head  on  straight 
with  your  hands  :  and  —  which  dances  may  I  have?  " 

"  You  unblushing  bribe-giver!  "  said  Helen.  "  But 
you  are  just  in  time.  I've  only  one  left  if  I've  counted 
them  right,  —  the  very  last.  Why  did  you  come  so 
late?  The  very  last  man.  Listen,  the  clocks  are 
striking  eleven." 

'''  Just  couldn't  get  here  sooner.  But  I'll  wait  for 
that  last  dance  if  it's  a  month." 

The  receiving-party  was  broken  up  and  proceeded 


258          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

to  the  refreshment  room,  afterward  to  go  to  the  ball 
room,  where  were  gathered  those  younger  people  who 
were  bidden  to  both  reception  and  dance. 

"  Remember,"  said  Evans  to  Helen  as  they  left  the 
East  Room,  "  I  shall  worry  along  with  existence  till 
the  last  number  on  the  card.  See  if  you  can't  run  in 
an  extra  for  my  long-suffering  benefit.  By  the  way, 
where  is  your  sister?  " 

"  In  bed  and  cried  herself  to  sleep  two  hours  ago. 
Poor  thing,  she  wanted  to  come  in  and  see  me  shine, 
but  mamma  said  '  no,'  and  packed  her  off  to  bed  on 
schedule  time." 

"  Now  look  here,"  said  Evans,  "  little  Miss  Kath- 
erine  is  a  young  lady  of  vast  consequence  —  and  it's 
a  shame  she  should  be  treated  so :  but  I  think  you 
knew  very  well  I  was  inquiring  for  your  older  sister." 

"  Oh,  Elise?  "  she  laughed.  "  She  had  gone  across 
the  hall  with  Captain  Howard  just  before  you  came 
in." 

Rutledge  did  not  thank  her  for  the  information, 
and  Helen  regarded  him  narrowly  with  amusement. 

"  Victoria  Crosses  are  not  to  be  resisted,  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge.  Heroes  always  have  right  of  way." 

"  Do  you  speak  from  theory  or  experience?  "  asked 
Rutledge. 

"  Both,"  said  Helen,  as  for  the  first  time  that  night 
she  thought  of  her  husband. 

She  thought  of  him  quite  a  number  of  times  before 
the  evening  was  over.  In  her  thinking  there  was  no 
disloyalty  to  her  love  nor  to  her  vows :  but  with  all 
the  glowing  prospects  for  a  round  of  gayety  which  the 
brilliance  of  this  evening  of  her  debut  promised  for 
her  first  season,  she  felt  a  vague  regret  that  she  was* 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          259 

not  approaching  the  pleasures  of  it  in  the  fullest  free 
dom.  Some  quite  well-defined  notions  of  what  was 
due  her  estate  as  a  wife  threatened  to  put  certain 
limitations  and  restraints  upon  her.  She  half  wished 
that  that  ceremony  had  been  deferred  —  only  deferred 
-  till  the  time  when  she  would  be  ready  to  enter 
upon  the  duties  of  her  wedded  life,  assume  its  respon 
sibilities  and  be  obedient  to  the  restrictions  which  very 
properly  pertain  to  it. 

Her  husband,  also,  was  giving  some  thought  to  the 
questions  which  the  situation  presented,  with  the  dif 
ference  that  he  had  not  thought  of  anything  else 
since  the  evening  began.  With  nothing  to  do  since 
eight  o'clock,  and  free  to  go  home,  he  had  stopped  to 
see  Helen  in  her  coming-out  glory. 

His  livery  was  a  passport ;  and  he  divided  the  time 
of  the  reception  —  rather  unequally,  to  be  sure  —  be 
tween  scraps  of  conversation  with  coming  and  going 
coachmen  he  knew  and  long  periods  of  gazing  upon 
Helen's  loveliness  through  a  broad  low  window  of  the 
.East  Room.  He  had  never  seen  her  in  the  role  or  in 
the  conventional  evening  dress  of  womanhood,  and 
the  vision  enchanted  him.  Crowning  the  piquancy  of 
youth  and  freshness  and  elan  in  the  girl,  was  the  un 
studied  dignity  and  stateliness  and  graciousness  of  the 
woman ;  and  the  metamorphosis  held  him  entranced. 

He  looked  and  looked  and  looked  at  her  while  every 
variant  tremor  of  love  and  pride  and  impatience  swept 
over  his  heart-strings.  He  saw  the  most  notable  men 
in  America,  men  whose  business  was  world-politics, 
bow  in  evident  admiration  before  her  beauty,  and 
linger  to  barter  persiflage  for  her  smiles  and  airy 
speeches  :  and  she  was  his  wife. 


260          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

He  saw  her  receive  the  magnificent  Chief  of  Staff  of 
the  Army,  resplendent  in  the  uniform  of  his  exalted 
rank:  her,  the  wife  of  Sergeant  Graham  of  "the 
loth."  And  that  towering  figure  with  the  stamp  of 
"  Briton  "  in  every  massive  line?  Yes,  Hayward  rec 
ognized  him:  the  English  member  of  the  Canadian 
Fisheries  Commission  —  a  lawyer  of  international 
repute,  a  belted  earl  —  bending  a  grand  head  low  in 
obeisance  to  a  footman's  wife  —  to  his  wife.  The 
insolence  of  pride  filled  his  heart  for  a  minute.  Then 
a  twinge  of  doubt  went  through  him :  she  would  not 
be  a  footman's  wife:  she  had  decreed  her  husband 
must  be  an  officer  —  oh,  the  bother  and  the  worry 
of  it  —  and  the  uncertainty !  But  she  was  his  beyond 
escape,  and  if  the  worst  came  to  —  no,  that  would  be 
disloyalty.  .  .  .  Look,  who  is  that  shaking  hands 
with  her  now?  Hal  Lodge,  by  all  that's  Boston! 
Where  did  he  come  from,  and  what's  he  doing  here? 
No  matter,  he's  here.  Look  out,  Hal,  old  boy,  don't 
hold  my  wife's  hand  so  long  —  nor  gaze  into  her  eyes 
so  meaningly  —  I  know  your  failing !  My  what  a 
joke  it  would  be  if  you  fell  in  love  with  her !  —  it 
would  be  too  funny.  I  owe  it  to  old  friendship  to 
warn  you,  but  I  mustn't." 

For  the  greater  part  of  two  hours  Hayward 
watched  the  reception.  He  saw  the  last  man  pre 
sented. 

"  Yes,  I  know  you,  too,"  he  thought.  "  You  made 
that  infernal  speech  in  the  Senate  last  year  —  said 
some  good  things  for  us,  too,  but  on  the  whole  it  was 
damnable.  .  .  .  I'll  excuse  you  from  talking  to  my 
wife,  you  race-proud  bigot!  You  needn't  try  any  of 
your  '  ardent  Southerner '  on  her.  .  .  .  Keep  off  the 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          261 

grass.  She  belongs  to  me.  She  is  mine  —  mine, 
curse  you !  and  all  your  raving  speeches  can't  take 
her  away  from  me !  .  .  .  Oh,  well,  talk  on  —  yes, 
talk  on  to  her.  I  wish  to  heaven  you  would  fall  in 
love  with  her!  That  would  be  quite  the  most  delicious 
dispensation  of  fate  that  could  ever  come  to  me  — 
it  would  be  too  good,  too  good  to  hope  for  —  to  have 
you  hopelessly  in  love  with  my  wife!  .  .  .  Oh,  you 
beauty,  how  can  any  man  resist  you !  " 

On  the  other  side  of  the  house  Rutledge  afterward 
swung  past  the  footman's  window  in  several  dances 
with  Elise. 

"  Oh,"  growled  Hayward  at  last,  "  it's  my  brother- 
in-law  you  aspire  to  be !  Well,  I  don't  approve  of  that 
either.  I'm  surprised  that  your  High-Mightiness  con 
descends  to  my  humble  father-in-law's  family  anyway 
—  and  how  they  can  suffer  you  to  set  foot  in  the 
house  after  your  deliverances  I  can't  see  —  I'd  jump 
at  the  chance  to  pitch  you  out." 

An  idea  akin  to  the  footman's  had  come  that  night 
to  Elise.  For  other  reasons  she,  too,  wondered  why 
she  permitted  Evans  Rutledge  to  continue  his  friendly 
attentions  to  herself.  She  had  half  made  several 
resolves  to  put  an  end  to  them.  But  —  it  is  a  fact 
noted  by  close  observers  that  even  the  most  womanly 
woman  has  some  curiosity  —  that  she  is  mildly  at 
tracted  by  a  riddle  —  that  she  detests  —  that  is,  she 
thinks  about  —  what  she  can't  understand.  In  the 
case  in  point  Miss  Elise  Phillips  was  the  woman  and 
Mr.  Evans  Rutledge  was  the  riddle. 

From  the  moment  that  Lola  DeVale  had  told  her 
that  Rutledge  had  .kissed  her  believing  her  to  be  Elise 


262          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

the  eldest  Miss  Phillips  had  had  a  growing  desire  to 
know  why  he  should  have  done  it.  She  was  properly 
resentful  that  he  had  taken  the  liberty  with  her  even 
by  proxy  —  oh  yes,  she  felt  sometimes  she  could  box 
his  ears  for  his  impudence.  .  .  .  But  aside  from  all 
that,  why  had  he  kissed  her?  Lola  had  told  her 
plainly  long  time  ago  that  Mr.  Rutledge  had  told  her 
no  less  plainly  that  his  self-respect  would  not  permit 
him  to  confess  his  love  again.  Why  then  should  he 
kiss  her?  .  .  .  Oh,  of  course,  men  kissed  women,  she 
knew,  or  at  least  had  been  led  to  believe,  just  for  the 
downright  fun  of  the  thing:  but  Mr.  Rutledge  surely 
was  not  so  common  —  and  would  not  deal  with  her 
on  that  basis.  No,  she  would  not  believe  it  of  him. 
...  If  she  had  only  been  there,  she  thought,  and 
had  seen  the  way  the  thing  was  done,  the  answer 
doubtless  would  appear.  The  answer  to  the  why  was 
evidently  locked  up  in  the  how.  Only  Lola  knew  the 
details  of  how.  Elise  had  finally  decided  that  she 
might  as  well  know  them  also. 

Lola  was  no  match  for  her  friend  in  subtlety.  On 
her  own  initiative,  as  she  supposed,  and  at  the  peril 
of  severing  their  friendship,  she  gave  Elise  the  whole 
story.  When  she  saw  that  the  listening  Elise  was 
only  mildly  offended  at  the  disclosure,  she  again  re 
hearsed  the  episode  for  the  purpose  of  colouring  it 
with  the  eloquence  in  Mr.  Rutledge's  tendernesses. 

"  It's  a  pity  I  was  just  enough  stunned  to  be  unable 
to  stop  him.  I  heard  every  wasted  word  he  spoke  and 
was  conscious  of  all  his  misplaced  kisses." 

"  Oh,  there  was  no  harm  done,"  Elise  replied  with 
a  contemptuous  sniff.  "  I  guess  you  are  not  the  first 
young  woman  upon  whom  he  has  thrown  away  kisses., 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          263 

The  modern  young  man  never  neglects  any  opportu 
nity." 

"  Hear  experience  speak !  "  said  Lola. 

"  My  experience  is  not  so  far  advanced  as  yours, 
apparently,"  rejoined  Elise;  "but  I'm  not  so  uninvi 
ting  that  no  young  man  has  ever  shown  a  willingness 
to  kiss  me.  With  all  my  inexperience  I  know  what 
they  would  do  if  I  chose  to  bump  my  head  against 
the  terrace  steps." 

"  Don't  be  envious  and  scratchy,  dear.  Remember 
I  gave  you  your  property  as  soon  as  —  "  but  she  de 
sisted  as  Elise  angrily  tossed  up  her  head  and  drew 
her  fingers  across  her  lips  in  belated  protest  against 
the  transplanted  caress. 

Elise  was  verily  displeased  with  Mr.  Rutledge, 
whom  she  saw  at  irregular  intervals,  neither  too  long 
nor  too  short  —  for  the  times  and  seasons  of  his  meet 
ings  with  her  were  entirely  unsignificant.  She  even 
went  to  the  trouble  of  making  a  special  resolve  that 
she  would  not  think  of  him ;  but  it  died  and  went  to 
the  place  where  all  good  resolutions  go.  Now,  Cap 
tain  Howard  was  her  devoted  attendant,  as  far  as  she 
would  permit  him  to  monopolize  her  time.  Outsiders 
conceded  him  first  place  and  probable  success  in  his 
wooing,  and  Elise  herself  had  come  to  feel  a  sort  of 
possessory  interest  in  him.  He  was  at  her  beck  and 
call,  quietly  but  evidently  elated  \vhen  at  her  side,  and 
unmistakably  bored  when  passing  time  with  some 
other  young  woman  and  awaiting  Elise's  summons. 
But  Rutledge :  he  was  not  less  elated  than  Howard 
when  it  was  his  fortune  to  have  Elise's  whole  atten 
tion,  and  made  no  effort  to  conceal  his  love  for  her; 
—  and  yet  he  did  not  attempt  by  word  or  look  or 


264          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

gesture  to  add  a  jot  of  confirmation  to  his  one  declara 
tion  of  it,  or  even  to  remind  Elise  that  he  had  made 
it.  A  score  of  times  she  had  seen  his  love  in  his  eyes 
—  plainly,  so  plainly,  when  he  talked  to  her :  but  he 
talked  always  about  impersonal  matters  —  in  an 
abominably  interesting  way  —  and  when  she  dis 
missed  him  seemed  to  become  oblivious  to  her  exist 
ence  and  very  careless  as  to  what  time  should  elapse 
before  he  came  to  her  again.  Indeed  he  showed  no 
apparent  purpose  to  come  —  or  to  stay  away,  which 
was  worse.  If  it  would  not  give  the  lie  to  her  indif 
ference  she  would  send  him  about  his  business  for 
good  and  all. 

Did  he  love  her?  Yes,  she  was  convinced  of  it  — 
without  Lola's  assurances.  Then,  why  had  he  kissed 
her?  Would  he  kiss  a  woman  for  the  love  of  her 
and  yet  be  unwilling  to  tell  that  love  to  her?  Would 
his  self-respect  permit  him  to  kiss  her  whom  his  self- 
respect  would  not  permit  him  to  marry  because  her 
father  received  negroes  at  his  table?  "  Self-respect" 
would  be  making  some  peculiar  distinctions  in  that 
case,  —  even  if  everything  be  conceded  to  a  South 
erner's  ideas  of  "  social  equality."  ...  A  girl  to  be 
kissed,  but  not  to  be  courted !  —  Elise's  face  burned 
at  .the  thought.  No,  she  would  not  insult  herself  by 
believing  Mr.  Rutledge's  love  had  lost  its  chivalry  — 
that  he  could  deal  with  her  on  any  such  Tim-and- 
Bridget  basis  —  there  must  be  some  other  explana 
tion.  .  .  .  Sometimes  she  desired  the  explanation 
very  heartily.  At  others  she  was  altogether  indif 
ferent. 

In  their  last  waltz  on  the  evening  of  Helen's  debut, 
both  these  wrong-headed  young  folks  had  been  alive 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          265 

to  the  sensations  bordering  on  the  delicious  with 
which  her  heavenly  mood,  his  unspoken  love  and  the 
sensuous  music  had  quickened  their  pulses.  There 
was  something,  however,  in  the  suddenness,  in  the 
completeness,  with  which  he  turned  away  from  her 
which  Elise  resented,  and  which  made  her  want 
to  know  who  it  was  that  must  have  been  in  his 
thoughts  even  \vhile  he  was  making  that  last  gallant 
speech  to  her.  As  she  turned  to  see,  he  was  being 
welcomed  by  little  Miss  Margaret  Preston,  a  one- 
year's  blossom,  with  such  a  tell-tale  flutter  of  shy 
admiration,  that  Elise  chose  to  look  that  way  again 
after  a  few  moments.  Then  he  was  bent  down  above 
the  little  lady  in  that  manner  full  of  all  gentleness 
and  deference  Elise  knew  so  well,  and  was  saying 
something  to  her,  —  as  if  nothing  else  in  all  the 
world  was  worth  while,  —  which  sent  a  rich,  red  blush 
to  over-colour  the  blossom's  white  and  pink. 

"  So  you  keep  in  practice  of  your  arts  at  all  haz 
ards,"  thought  Miss  Phillips,  "  even  at  the  expense  of 
young  things  like  that!  ...  I  hope  that  some  woman 
will  teach  you  your  lesson  yet !  "  —  and  she  turned  to 
Captain  Howard  with  a  bewildering  smile,  and  did 
not  look  at  Mr.  Rutledge  again  that  evening. 


ALL  this  time  the  footman-husband  was  doing  sen 
try.  With  the  passing  of  the  receiving  party  into  the 
supper-room  he  had  changed  position  and  mounted 
guard  where  he  could  look  in  on  the  dancing.  A 
White  House  policeman  who  had  had  an  eye  on  him 
all  evening  thought  his  conduct  unusual  and  walked 
close  by  to  give  him  a  searching  inspection.  After 
ward  a  secret-service  man  thought  best  to  look  him 
over  carefully.  None  of  these  things  moved  him  from 
his  purpose,  however;  nor  did  the  cold  wind  nor  a 
thirty  minutes'  flurry  of  sleet  unset  his  resolution. 
He  watched  his  wife's  every  glide  and  turn  in  the 
dance  till  the  violins  sleepily  sang  of  Home,  Sweet 
Home. 

The  effect  of  his  vigil  on  the  dancing  side  was  dis 
turbing  to  Hayward.  As  Helen  passed  from  the 
arms  of  one  man  to  another  he  began  to  grow  nerv 
ous.  His  positive  resentment  was  aroused  when  she 
was  whirled  past  the  window  in  the  embrace  of  a 
sprig  of  nobility  attached  to  the  Italian  embassy.  Her 
shivering  husband's  blood  jumped.  He  had  heard 
things  about  that  chap !  —  oh,  the  profanation  of  his 
even  touching  the  hand  of  Helen  —  thank  Heaven  the 
music  has  stopped  to  catch  its  breath !  Next  it  was 
Rutledge  treading  a  measure  with  the  debutante,  and 

266 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          267 

his  anger  burned  again,  —  flaming  no  doubt  it  would 
have  been  had  he  known  that  the  number  was  an  extra 
devised  by  his  wife  in  Rutledge's  special  favour. 
Anything  was  better  than  the  Italian  though !  —  some 
comfort  in  that.  .  .  .  And  now  comes  Hal  Lodge 
piloting  her  through  the  swirl.  Careful,  old  man, 
don't  hold  her  so  close.  She  is  quite  able  to  carry  a 
part  of  her  own  weight! 

There  can  be  no  doubt  it  takes  some  culture  —  of 
a  sort  —  for  a  man  to  be  able  to  look  with  entire 
complacency  upon  his  wife  in  another's  arms,  however 
fine  a  fellow  or  fast  a  friend  that  other  is.  There  be 
those  who  have  attained  unto  such  culture :  but  Hay- 
ward  had  had  few  opportunities  in  that  school  —  he 
was  happily  —  in  this  case  unhappily  —  ignorant  of 
its  refinements  of  learning.  He  knew,  of  course,  as  a 
matter  of  pure  mentality,  that  it  was  a  perfectly  harm 
less  pastime,  but  his  heart  would  not  subscribe  to  the 
knowledge.  No,  he  thought,  it  was  no  use  to  try  to 
deceive  himself :  he  didn't  like  it  and  he  didn't  care  to 
try  to  like  it.  She  was  his  wife,  and  to  have  other 
men  putting  their  arms  about  her  even  in  the  dance, 
when  he  himself  did  not  have  the  privilege  and  would 
not  have  it  until  —  oh,  damn  that  commission! 

The  weeks  following  Helen's  coming-out  gave 
nothing  to  allay  the  tumult  rising  in  her  husband's 
heart.  The  duties  of  his  service  compelled  him  to 
look  on  many  scenes  from  which  he  gladly  would 
have  turned  his  jealous  eyes. 

By  the  grim  humour  of  fate  was  it,  too,  that  his 
friend  Hal  Lodge  should  cause  him  the  keenest  heart 
burnings.  Hayward  wrote  to  Helen  all  about  their 


268          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

friendship  and  intimate  association  at  Harvard,  and 
in  letter  after  letter  purposely  related  many  incidents 
of  Hal's  college  loves  and  flirtations  so  that  Helen 
might  know  him  as  he  knew  him.  He  was  loyal  to 
his  friendship  however,  and  gave  also  a  faithful  ac 
count  of  Hal's  excellences.  There  was  no  stint  in  his 
praise,  nor  any  attempt  to  belittle  Lodge  in  his  wife's 
esteem.  In  such  glowing  terms  did  he  sing  of  his 
friends'  many  virtues  that  he  did  not  have  the  cour 
age  to  unsay  a  word  of  it  when  friendship  was  turned 
to  gall. 

Thanks  to  Hayward's  three  years  in  the  army  he 
held  it  'not  a  violation  of  their  friendship  that  Hal 
had  never  given  him  the  slightest  word  or  nod  of 
recognition,  though  the  footman  knew  his  livery  had 
not  concealed  his  identity.  However,  they  met  one 
evening  when  Hayward  was  off  duty  and  in  citizen's 
dress.  They  were  on  the  street,  unattended,  with  no 
other  person  in  a  block  of  them. 

"  Hello,  Hal !  "  Hayward  cried  with  the  old-time 
ring  in  his  voice,  meeting  Lodge  squarely  in  front  and 
holding  out  his  hand. 

Lodge  stopped  and  looked  at  him. 

"  It's  Graham.  Cut  the  stare,  old  chap.  I'd  have 
sworn  you  knew  me  all  these  weeks,  but  now  I  see 
you  didn't.  Have  I  changed  so  much  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  knew  you,"  said  Lodge  impassively  —  and 
turned  and  left  him. 

Hayward  stared  after  him  in  speechless  amazement 
that  fast  passed  into  speechless  wrath.  A  hot  wave  of 
blood  dashed  a  tingle  of  fire  against  every  inch  of  his 
cuticle.  .  In  such  moments  men  have  done  murder. 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          269 

.  .  .  He  stood  perfectly  still  till  the  February  breeze 
had  cooled  him  off.  .  .  .  He  was  again  at  his  normal 
temperature,  but  the  brief  conflagration  had  brought 
calamity  —  tragedy :  it  had  burned  out  a  part  of  his 
life.  In  the  inventory  of  loss  were  comradeship  and 
loyalty  and  faith  and  affection  and  friendliness  and 
inspirations  and  memories  —  burned  to  ashes,  or 
charred  and  blackened  and  wrecked.  Tragedy?  The 
elemental  tragedy  of  all  the  eternities  is  in  the  death 
of  a  friendship.  .  .  .  Despite  the  praises  he  had  sung, 
Hayward  might  have  told  Helen  about  it  —  if  the 
iron  had  not  gone  so  deep  into  his  soul.  Men  will 
parade  their  lighter  hurts  and  gabble  of  them  for  pas 
time  or  to  entertain  their  neighbours,  but  death- 
wounds  bring  the  silence  with  them. 

Helen's  letters  babbled  on  with  occasional  refer- 
/ences  to  Mr.  Lodge,  in  whom  from  time  to  time  she 
saw  exemplified  one  and  another  of  the  graces  which 
Hayward  had  described  and  which  she  in  turn  re 
counted  to  him,  as  she  thought,  for  his  delectation. 
After  some  months  of  this  it  is  not  to  be  doubted  or 
wondered  at  that  Hayward  took  time  to  despise  Lodge 
very  thoroughly  and  sincerely. 

From  the  moment  of  his  rebuff  the  footman  felt 
that  he  was  not  in  a  position  to  show  his  resentment. 
He  wrote  to  Helen  that  his  friend  did  not  know  him 
and  asked  her  to  make  no  mention  of  him  to  Lodge 
even  in  the  most  casual,  inferential  or  roundabout 
fashion.  No  need  to  warn  Helen :  she  had  been 
frightened  out  of  her  wits  by  an  incident  occurring 
early  after  their  coming  from  Hill-Top,  and  the  foot- 


270          THE    CALL   OF   THE    SOUTH 

man's  name  was  never  on  her  tongue  save  in  connec 
tion  with  his  duties  as  a  servant. 

As  the  winter  wore  on  and  melted  into  spring,  less 
and  less  indeed  was  the  thought  of  her  husband  upon 
Helen's  mind.  Not,  let  it  be  understood,  that  she 
loved  him  less  than  upon  the  day  of  their  marriage; 
but  the  rush  of  events  gave  her  little  time  to  think  of 
him.  Her  letters  proved  that  she  thought  of  him 
regularly  and  affectionately,  but  proved  no  less  that 
she  thought  of  him  briefly  —  and  yet  more  briefly  as 
time  passed. 

To  Hayward,  by  nothing  diverted  from  his  hungry 
thoughts  of  her,  his  wife's  slow  but  palpable  with 
drawing  from  him  and  from  his  life  was  an  increasing 
torment;  and  the  daily  sight  of  her,  to  which  his 
duties  held  him,  as  she  attracted  and  received  and 
appropriated  and  enjoyed  the  homage  and  admira 
tion  of  the  men  who  crowded  about  her,  among  whom 
in  high  favour  was  Lodge,  was  little  less  than  a  mad 
dening  torture.  She  seemed  to  be  escaping  him,  and 
his  heart  was  wrung  —  with  love  —  fear  —  jealousy 
—  hate.  In  a  nervous  hurry  of  desperation  he  sent 
to  his  lawyer-politician  friend  in  New  Hampshire  all 
the  information  and  recommendations  he  had  in  hand 
that  were  to  accompany  his  application  for  appoint 
ment  to  a  lieutenancy,  and  wrote  to  him :  "  Stir  around 
and  get  whatever  else  is  necessary  and  fire  them  at 
Washington.  Make  all  haste,  as  you  value  human 
life,  for  there  is  almost  that  dependent  on  this  ap 
pointment.  It  is  no  little  matter  of  military  rank  or 
of  dollars  and  cents,  but  of  life  and  —  love." 


CHAPTER    XXVII 

IN  the  months  leading  up  to  another  summer  Hay- 
ward  was  more  and  more  racked  with  impatience  and 
with  a  reckless  vacillation  between  hope  and  pessimism. 
The  one  thing  that  made  Helen's  gayeties  in  Wash 
ington  at  all  bearable  to  him  was  the  promise  of  the 
coming  summer  days  at  Hill-Top  when  he  would  get 
at  least  an  occasional  chance  of  speaking  to  her  and 
would  be  rid  of  the  sight  of  the  army  of  young  fellows 
who  were  besieging  her.  There  were  heartsease  and 
undisturbed  love  in  the  Hill-Top  prospect,  and  his 
anticipations  grew  apace  as  the  time  for  the  migration 
came  near.  .  .  .  The  day  was  set,  and  arrived.  The 
ex-trooper's  kit  was  packed.  He  was  ready,  ex 
pectant. 

He  got  Helen's  letter  about  an  hour  before  their 
train  was  to  start.  It  told  him  good-bye.  He  looked 
at  the  word  with  dismay.  After  a  time  he  read  on. 
It  had  been  decided  she  was  not  to  go  to  Hill-Top 
with  her  mother  and  the  little  girls  that  morning  — 
she  did  not  know  just  when  she  would  come  —  she 
was  going  to  New  York  for  a  short  visit  to  Alice 
Rhinelander,  then  she  was  going  to  Newport,  after 
that  to  Bar  Harbor  —  she  had  promised  Daisy  Sher- 
rol  a  visit  in  the  Catskills,  and  Madge  Parker  to  join 
her  house-party  at  Lake  Placid,  time  not  yet  fixed  — 
Alice  was  insisting  that  she  come  back  to  her  for  the 

271 


272          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

Cup  Races  in  September  —  besides  these  there  were  a 
number  of  other  things  under  consideration  —  and 
taking  it  all  together  it  was  quite  uncertain  whether 
she  would  get  home  at  all  —  she  was  so  sorry  that 
she  wouldn't,  but  he  must  not  begrudge  her  the  pleas 
ures  of  that  season  —  when  another  came  she  would 
probably  be  an  old  married  woman,  steady  and  settled 
down  —  he  would  please  look  carefully  after  mamma 
and  Katherine  and  May  —  and  with  her  love  she  told 
him  again  good-bye. 

Hayward  went  to  Hill-Top  and  performed  his  serv 
ice  admirably  as  usual :  but  all  the  spring  and  snap 
were  taken  out  of  him.  The  days  were  monotonous 
in  their  lack  of  diverting  occupation  and  he  had  much 
time  to  sit  still  and  hold  his  hands  —  and  think  of  his 
wife.  But  that  would  not  do  at  all.  He  tried  not  to 
do  so  much  of  it.  He  wrote  to  his  New  Hampshire 
lawyer  and  had  forwarded  to  him  at  Hill-Top  all  the 
papers  relating  to  his  commission,  and  filled  out  his 
spare  time  for  several  days  in  reviewing  these  mo 
mentous  documents. 

There  was  indeed  a  large  and  various  collection  of 
them.  He  and  his  friend  had  pulled  many  wires  — 
political,  personal,  military  and  other.  Beginning 
with  a  New  Hampshire  Senator  and  local  politicians, 
up  through  army  officers  and  men  personally  notable 
to  the  President  of  Harvard,  from  one  or  another  he 
had  drawn  largely  or  moderately  of  the  ammunition 
with  which  to  wage  his  battle.  Half  of  these  did  not 
know  the  use  he  intended  to  make  of  their  commenda 
tions,  but  they  were  all  sincerely  given. 

And  he  had  made  out  a  strong  case.  Such  a  for 
cible  one  in  truth  that,  barring  the  handicap  of  his 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          273 

colour,  he  would  win  hands  down.  A  man  of  his 
intelligence  could  not  but  know  that  it  was  a  strong 
case,  stronger  indeed  than  he  had  dared  to  hope  for. 
In  the  contemplation  of  it  he  was  elated.  The  col 
ouring  of  his  outlook  was  roseate  with  promise.  In 
that  outlook  he  saw  Helen  coming  toward  him,  not 
going  away  as  she  had  been  all  these  months.  With 
his  commission  was  she  coming,  and  his  commission 
was  coming  so  fast,  so  fast. 

He  felt  that  his  appeal  was  irresistible,  and  his 
spirit  was  on  a  high  wave  of  assurance.  So  high,  in 
deed,  that  he  decided  to  omit  the  personal  claim  upon 
the  President's  gratitude.  He  had  felt  for  some  time 
that  perhaps  that  would  not  be  altogether  fair.  .  .  . 
He  bundled  up  the  papers  along  with  his  final  sugges 
tions  and  sent  them  back  to  his  lawyer  with  orders 
to  lick  them  into  shape  and  forward  them  to  the 
President  without  another  minute's  delay. 

He  wrote  to  Helen  of  the  imminence  of  the  crisis 
in  their  affairs,  but  of  doubt  or  apprehension  he  did 
not  speak.  He  told  her  of  his  decision  not  to  appeal 
to  her  father's  sense  of  personal  obligation.  He 
exulted  in  his  approaching  triumph  as  if  he  had  al 
ready  apprehended  and  went  into  rhapsodies  about  the 
double  prize  it  would  bring  to  him :  the  shoulder- 
straps  and  her :  a  gentleman's  work  in  serving  the 
flag,  and  a  gentleman's  supremest  guerdon  —  her  love 
openly  confessed  and  without  reserve. 

Helen's  answer  was  brief  but  warmly  sympathetic. 
She  applauded  his  purpose  to  win  on  merit  alone. 
His  decision  only  confirmed  her  estimate  of  him. 
Her  faith  in  his  winning  was  fixed.  A  tender  line 
closed  the  missive,  and  a  laughing  postscript  besought 


274          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

him  not  to  believe  the  half  he  saw  in  the  papers  about 
her. 

Ah,  the  postscript!  It  suggested  a  thing  which 
Hayward  had  not  thought  of  before.  He  began  to 
read  the  society  notes  in  the  metropolitan  dailies,  with 
special  reference  to  Newport  and  Bar  Harbor  gossip, 
and  with  more  especial  reference  to  Miss  Helen  Phil 
lips'  doings  thereat.  He  bought  one  or  another  of 
the  papers  at  the  village  every  day,  and  studied  them 
religiously.  In  the  very  first  was  the  interesting  item 
that  Mr.  Harry  Lodge  was  spending  a  time  at  New 
port.  So  was  Helen,  as  Hayward  knew,  though  that 
paper  did  not  say  so.  But  the  next  day's  issue  did : 
and  he  began  to  exercise  his  brain  with  a  continuous 
problem  of  its  own  devising.  The  problem  was  to 
figure  out  in  his  imagination  the  details  of  Helen's 
daily  life. 

Some  days  the  papers  said  nothing  of  her,  and  then 
there  would  be  so  much  that  her  husband  resented 
the  intrusion  upon  the  right  of  privacy  which  the 
correspondents  so  ruthlessly  invaded,  —  but  he  wel 
comed  the  news  of  her.  The  President's  daughter 
was  a  public  personage,  and  the  great  newspapers  did 
not  hesitate  to  treat  her  as  such.  Her  comings  and 
goings,  her  graces  and  beauty,  her  dresses  and  dances, 
her  thoughts  and  her  tastes,  her  wit  and  her  charm 
were  never-ending  sources  of  supply  for  the  bright 
young  men  who  were  paid  by  the  column  for  their 
"  stuff."  Hayward  read  every  word  of  it  —  though 
a  Harvard  man  ought  to  have  had  more  sense:  and 
Mr.  Lodge  began  to  figure  more  and  more  largely  in 
"  the  conditions  of  the  problem." 

Hayward  made  no  allowance  for   reportorial  zeal 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          275 

or  mendacity,  the  first  always  much,  and  the  last, 
while  unusual,  always  possible.  The  young  gentle 
men  furnished  him  enough  to  think  about,  and  his 
imagination  began  to  add  enough,  and  more  than 
enough,  to  worry  about.  When  imagination  sets  out 
to  go  wrong  it  invariably  goes  badly  wrong,  for  the 
reason  that  it  plays  a  game  without  a  limit. 

However,  the  footman's  imaginings  were  not  en 
tirely  without  provocation.  As  the  days  passed, 
Helen's  letters  became  mere  scraps,  generally  tender, 
sometimes  quite  tender,  but  hurried,  snatchy,  with 
long  silences  between.  To  supply  the  lack  of  authentic 
information  of  her,  her  husband  studied  more  assidu 
ously  the  newspaper  columns :  and  the  poisoned  tooth 
of  jealousy  struck  deeper  into  his  heart.  At  last,  be 
tween  Helen's  indifference  and  the  nagging  news- 
notes,  he  could  not  endure  it  longer.  He  wrote  her  a 
protest  hot  with  the  fever  of  heart-burning  and  of  out 
raged  love.  He  re-read  that  letter  a  dozen  times  in 
indecision  —  and  trembled  as  he  dropped  it  in  the 
box.  .  .  .  Nervously  he  waited  for  an  answer,  —  and 
yet  he  waited.  .  .  .  The  silence  grew  ominous.  .  .  . 
His  fears  grew  also.  But  why,  thought  he,  should 
he  fear?  She  was  his  wife,  and  he  had  the  right  to 
protest.  .  .  .  His  anger  rose  at  her  contemptuous 
disregard  of  him :  his  anger  —  and  his  fear.  He 
knew  she  was  bound  to  him  past  undoing.  Neverthe 
less,  his  fears  did  abide  and  thicken,  while  the  summer 
and  the  silence  drew  along  slowly  hand  in  hand. 

September  had  come,  bringing  yet  no  letter  from 
his  wife  to  fetch  the  confusion  of  Hayward's  fear, 
his  resentment,  his  love  and  his  jealousy  to  something 


276          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

of  peaceful  order.  His  spirit  was  already  beset  with 
wild  imaginings  and  desire,  when  one  day  he  opened 
a  Journal  to  read  : 

ROMANCE   IN    HIGH    PLACES 

The  President's  Daughter,  Besought 

By  Eligibles  of  Many  Lands,  Will 

Wed  An  American  Citizen 

Superb  American  Beauty  Follows  Her  Heart 

Engagement  of  Miss  Helen  Phillips  and  Mr.  Harry 

Lodge 

Hayward  sat  down  on  the  first  thing  that  offered 
itself.  He  felt  just  a  little  uncertain  about  standing 
up.  He  read  the  staring  headlines  over  again,  and, 
hot  and  cold  by  turns,  plunged  into  the  details  of  this 
High  Romance. 

Unbelievable?  Beyond  doubt.  Unthinkable  even 
—  to  him  who  knew.  But  the  fabrication  artist  ham 
mered  his  brain  and  heart  with  such  a  mass  of  detail, 
with  such  a  crushing  tone  of  assuredness  and  author 
ity,  that  the  footman's  thoughts  and  beliefs  were 
pounded  into  stupefaction  and  he  knew  neither  what 
to  think  nor  what  to  believe.  His  brain  jumped  to 
recall  the  details  of  their  marriage,  in  fearful  search 
of  a  possible  defect  or  omission  which  might  vitiate 
it.  It  had  been  very  hurriedly  done,  all  superfluities 
were  omitted,  but  the  officer  had  assured  him  that  they 
were  hard  and  fast  man  and  wife. 

Had  Helen  discovered  a  flaw  in  the  contract?  And 
would  she  evade  it  thus?  .  .  .  When  that  last  ques 
tion  struck  his  brain,  a  dozen  passions  swarmed  to 
fight  within  his  heart :  love,  jealousy,  fear,  defiance. 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          277 

Shaking   with   the   tumult  of  them   all,   he  wrote  to 
Helen  again. 

"  It  has  been  six  long  weeks  since  you  received  my 
last  letter.  Not  a  word  has  come  to  me  in  answer  till 
this,  to-day : 

(Here  he  pasted  in  the  headlines  clipped  from  the 
Journal.} 

"  Is  this  your  reply?  If  it  is,  I  swear  to  you  it  shall 
not  be.  That  insufferable  cad  cannot  live  upon  the 
earth  to  take  you  from  me.  I  will  snuff  his  contempt 
ible  life  out  rather.  You  know  that  you  are  mine  — 
my  wife  —  by  every  vow  and  promise  which  the  law 
prescribes.  It  is  incredible  that  you  should  ignore 
your  troth  plighted  to  me.  It  is  impossible  for  you 
to  break  it  in  this  fashion.  I  would  not  have  believed 
you  could  be  a  fickle  and  unfaithful  Helen.  I  do  not 
believe  it.  It  is  a  lie.  Write  and  tell  me  it  is  a  lie. 
Write  quickly  for  the  love  of  God.  No,  no,  you  need 
not  write.  It  is  false.  I  know7  it  is  false  —  for  you 
cannot  be  false. 

'"  But  oh  my  Helen,  why  did  you  not  listen  to  me? 
Why  did  you,  a  wedded  wife,  persist  in  receiving  at 
tentions  from  men,  from  this  one  man  in  particular, 
the  most  contemptibly  caddish  creature  among  all  your 
admirers?  I  have  deplored  your  unrestraint  but  I 
resent  it  that  Lodge  should  have  found  such  special 
favour  at  your  hands  as  to  give  currency  to  this  re 
port.  He  is  unutterably  unworthy.  I  beseech  you  by 
the  love  I  shall  dare  to  believe  is  mine  until  you  tell 
me  I  have  lost  it  to  conduct  yourself  so  that  such 
lies  as  this  shall  not  be  printed.  Think  what  will  be 
said  of  your  gayeties  when  it  is  announced  that  you 
have  been  married  a  year.  I  love  you,  wildly,  madly, 


278          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

as  this  incoherent  letter  shows.  You  have  told  me 
that  your  love  is  mine  and  I  believe  it.  Forgive  me 
and  write  to  me,  queen  of  my  heart.  I  am  starving" 
for  lack  of  the  love  which  is  already  my  own." 

Helen's  reply  to  that  letter  came  quickly  enough. 

"  I  refer  you  to  yesterday's  papers,"  it  said  icily, 
"  for  my  answer  to  your  ravings  about  that  absurd 
newspaper  story.  Your  jealousy  is  insulting,  and 
your  aspersions  of  Mr.  Lodge  are  inexplicable.  He 
is  everything  that  is  honourable,  and  it  is  only  your 
frenzied  attack  upon  him  that  is  '  unutterably  un 
worthy.'  I  sincerely  regret  that  I  was  so  foolish  as 
to  marry  you  when  I  did.  You  are  unreasonably 
exacting  and  I  will  not  be  bound  by  it.  You  have  no 
right  to  make  demands  of  me." 

Hayward  had  the  sensation  of  being  struck  in  the 
face.  If  he  had  been  disturbed  with  vague  doubts 
theretofore,  he  was  now  harassed  by  very  certain  and 
lively  fear.  The  "  yesterday's  papers "  to  which 
Helen  referred  him  had  had  a  very  explicit  denial  of 
the  engagement,  and  Helen's  sharp  reply  admitted  her 
marriage  to  him;  but  the  last  declarations  of  her 
letter  were  ambiguous  and  defiant,  and  his  heart  sank 
when  he  remembered  that  marriages  were  often  an 
nulled,  and  that,  even  though  the  courts  might  not 
give  freedom,  there  was  no  way  to  compel  a  wife  to 
live  with  her  husband. 

Every  manner  of  possibility  and  expedient  whirled 
round  and  round  in  his  brain  until  his  thoughts  were 
an  almost  insane  jumble  of  fear,  indecision  and  wrath. 
Finally  out  of  the  travail  of  his  hopelessness  and  con 
fusion  of  ideas  there  rose  his  fighting  spirit  and  was 
born  the  mighty  oath  he  swore,  that  she  was  his,  he 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          279 

must  have  her,  and  in  spite  of  the  world,  flesh  and 
the  devil,  by  God,  he  would  have  her! 

One  never-to-be-forgotten  night  was  the  first  he 
spent  after  receiving  Helen's  letter :  a  nightmare  from 
his  lying  down  until  the  dawn.  A  tumult  of  shifting 
phantasms,  disordered,  chaotic,  terrible,  assailed  him 
with  incessant  horrors  the  night  long,  while  through 
it  all  there  ran  as  a  continuing  and  connecting  tragedy 
his  struggle  to  possess  himself  of  Helen.  In  his  wild 
dreams  she  was  sometimes  his  and  again  escaping 
him;  but  always  when  he  held  her  it  was  by  right  of 
might.  A  time  he  was  clasping  her  close  and  warm 
in  his  arms,  but  fainting  and  unconscious,  as  he  ran 
with  her  down  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  Lodge,  Rutledge, 
Phillips  and  an  angry  horde  in  hot  pursuit.  Again, 
he  was  dragging  her  through  a  never-ending  swamp, 
limp  and  lifeless,  one  side  of  her  face  a-drip  with 
blood.  With  a  blood-stained  axe  he  was  fighting  a 
furious,  breath-spent  way  through  vines  and  tangled 
undergrowth,  the  while  there  sounded  in  his  ears  the 
long-drawn  baying  of  hounds  upon  his  track. 

From  that  bed  of  horrors  he  sprang  with  relief  be 
fore  the  first  light  in  the  east.  He  was  glad  just  to  be 
awake,  and  he  felt  as  if  he  wished  never  to  close  his 
eyes  again. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII 

"  You  will  have  Shortman  and  the  landau  at  the 
door  at  ten  o'clock/'  said  Mrs.  Phillips  to  Hayward 
when  he  appeared  for  duty  that  morning.  Shortman 
was  the  coachman. 

When  the  servants  appeared  at  ten  for  orders  they 
were  told  that  they  should  proceed  to  Cahudaga  and 
bring  back  with  them  in  the  afternoon  Miss  Helen 
and  two  friends.  .  .  .  Shortman,  stolid  and  indiffer 
ent  as  he  usually  was,  was  yet  interested  to  note  that 
he  could  not  understand  some  of  the  things  the  foot 
man  said  and  did  on  that  ride  to  Cahudaga. 

Alice  Rhinelander's  sudden  indisposition  forbade 
her  to  attempt  the  long  drive  to  Hill-Top,  and  Lucile 
Hammersley,  of  course,  could  not  leave  her  guest. 
As  Helen  was  to  have  but  one  day  at  home,  however, 
she  decided  to  go  alone,  and  leave  the  two  others  to 
follow  her  on  the  morrow.  As  it  was,  she  deferred 
starting  till  the  latest  possible  moment.  A  threatening 
sky,  splashed  with  sunshine  but  brushed  with  the  fleet 
ing  clouds  and  winds  of  the  close-coming  equinox, 
was  Mr.  Hammersley's  pretext  for  insisting  that  she 
also  remain  over  night;  but  a  childish  desire  to  go 
home  now  that  she  was  near  it  impelled  her  to  tear 
herself  away  at  the  last  minute  for  the  solitary  drive. 

She  spoke  pleasantly  to   Shortman  and  Hayward 

280 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          281 

when  she  came  out  to  get  in  the  carriage,  and  Hay- 
ward  thought  that  her  perfect  composure  in  what 
seemed  to  him  a  tense  situation  was  marvellous  to  be 
hold.  At  the  first  sight  of  her  glorious  beauty  he  had 
an  impulse  to  prostrate  himself  in  adoration,  but  that 
something  of  the  grand  lady  which  she  had  uncon 
sciously  taken  on  held  him  stiffly  to  his  character,  if 
nothing  else  had  done  so.  He  held  open  the  door  for 
her,  pushed  her  skirt  clear  —  his  pulses  gone  wild  at 
the  touch  of  it  —  shut  her  in  securely,  climbed  to  his 
seat  beside  Shortman  and  faced  steadily  to  the  front. 

He  was  afraid  to  seek  a  personal  look  from  Helen's 
eyes.  She,  looking  upon  his  broad  back,  erect  and  flat, 
strong  in  every  line,  did  not  guess  the  storm  that  was 
shaking  him  within.  She  was  no  little  surprised  at 
the  grip  he  had  on  himself,  and  really  indulged'  in 
some  admiration  of  his  indifferent  air  in  what  had 
been  to  her  notion,  also,  a  rather  tense  situation  —  for 
him.  Her  father's  daughter,  she  had  never  met  or 
imagined  the  situation  to  which  she  would  not  be 
equal.  .  .  . 

While  Hayward's  spirit  was  being  storm-swept,  a 
literal  tempest  was  driving  down  upon  them.  They 
were  less  than  half-way  home  and  on  a  lonely  and  un 
peopled  part  of  their  road  when  the  storm  fell.  The 
men,  and  Helen,  too,  had  ascribed  the  increasing  dark 
ness  to  the  fast-coming  nightfall,  for  the  air  about 
them  was  still  and  warm,  and  the  sun  had  gone  some 
time  before  behind  a  bank  of  low-lying  clouds.  A 
lightning-flash  was  the  first  herald  of  danger;  and 
drive  then  as  Shortman  might,  it  was  a  losing  race. 

The  storm  seemed  disposed  to  play  cat-and-mouse 
with  them.  Hurrying  over  them  in  scurrying  clouds 


282          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

darker  and  blacker  growing,  it  only  watched  the  hard- 
driven  horses,  nor  so  much  as  blew  a  breath  upon 
them.  .  .  .  Mocking  them  now,  it  blew  a  puff,  puff 

—  and  again  was  silence.     As  if  to  incite  them  to 
more  amusing  endeavours,  along  with  another  puff  it 
threw  at  them  a  capful  of  giant  rain-drops :   and  again 
drew  off  from  the  game  to  watch  them  run  with  fright. 
.  .  .  Next  came  a  brilliant  sheet  of  lightning,  reveal 
ing  the  cavernous  furrows  and  writhing  convulsions 
on   the    storm-god's   front  —  but   not   the   sound   of 
thunder  nor  the  jarring  shock  of  the  riving  bolt  — 
that  would  be  carrying  the  joke  with  these  scared  and 
fleeing  pigmies  too  far.   .  .  .  Another  awful,  mock 
ing  grimace  of  the  storm,  and  then  another.     After 
each,  the  darkness  cojiiing  like  a  down-flung  blanket 
closer  and  closer  to  envelop  the  earth.     And  through 
it  all,  that  awful  silent  stillness,  broken  so  far  only 
by   the  clatter   of  those  sportive   raindrops   and   the 
rustle  of  the  contemptuous  puffs.  .  .  .  But  the  giant 
hadn't  time  to  play   with  children :     Crash,    ROAR 

—  the  hurricane  struck  the  hapless  carriage ! 
Shortman  was  driving  wildly  to  reach  a  little  farm 
house  two  miles  yet  ahead,  the  first  hope  of  shelter. 
In  the  sheets  of  light  his  eyes  swept  the  ill-kept  road 
to  fix  his  course,  and  in  the  inky  blackness  following 
he  held  to  it  in  desperate  and  unslacking  haste  till  an 
other  flash  revealed  it  further  to  him. 

The  thundering  wind  mauled  and  pummelled  them. 
It  shook  and  tore  them.  It  shook  and  tore  the  very 
earth  as  they  plunged  fearfully  forward  through  the 
terrible  light  and  the  awful  darkness.  In  the  deafen 
ing,  blinding  roar  and  rush,  sight  and  hearing  were 
pounded  almost  into  insensibility  and  Helen  tried  to 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          283 

cry  out  to  the  swaying  figures  on  the  driver's  seat  — 
but   screamed    instead    in    terror   as   calamity  caught 
them.     Crack!   Crash!  CRUSH!  —  and  woman,  men, 
horses  and  carriage  were  buried  under  a  down-coming 
treetop. 

Helen  felt  she  had  not  lost  consciousness,  but 
she  did  not  know.  Hayward  was  struggling  to  release 
her  from  the  wrecked  landau.  He  was  calling  to  her, 
screaming  rather,  —  for  the  shrieking  wind  was  ra 
ging  as  if  with  the  taste  of  blood.  She  could  see  him 
plainly  as  he  fought  through  the  threshing  branches 
of  the  giant  oak  that  had  smashed  them.  The  light 
which  revealed  him  to  her  was  continuous,  but  flash 
ing  and  dancing.  She  looked  to  see  whence  it  came, 
and  her  blood  froze  as  she  saw  the  sputtering  end  of 
an  electric  transmission  cable  which  the  falling  forest 
monarch  had  broken  and  carried  down.  At  the  foot 
of  Niagara  were  mighty  turbines  a-whirl  which  sent 
the  deadly  current  to  threaten  and  to  slay.  Men  had 
intended  it  for  wrorks  of  peace  and  industry  in  lake 
villages,  but  Nature  had  stepped  in  to  reclaim  it  as 
one  of  her  own  cataclysmic  forces,  and  Niagara's  riot 
ing  waters,  unwitting  and  uncaring,  sent  it  just  as 
merrily  and  as  mightily  to  works  of  death. 

Hayward  well  knew  that  death  was  in  the  touch  of 
that  whipping  wire,  tangled  in  boughs  beaten  and 
lashed  by  the  demoniac  winds :  but  Helen  was  in 
danger,  and  he  hesitated  not  to  come  to  her.  After 
a  struggle  that  tested  muscle  as  well  as  courage,  he 
dragged  her  free  and  started  to  carry  her  up  the  road 
side  bank  to  a  small  hut  or  shack  which  the  light  re 
vealed.  Helen  shook  herself  from  his  arms. 


284          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

"  Where  is  Shortman  ? "  she  cried  against  the 
tempest. 

Hay  ward  pointed  to  the  wrecked  carriage.  As  she 
looked,  one  of  the  horses,  uttering  a  cry  and  trying 
to  rise,  was  flicked  on  the  head  by  the  end  of  the 
hissing  wire,  and,  in  a  flash  of  greenish-blue  flame, 
sank  down  and  was  still. 

"Help  Shortman!"  Helen  cried  again. 

At  her  command  Hayward  plunged  into  the  tree- 
top  and  after  a  longer  struggle  than  had  been  neces 
sary  in  rescuing  Helen,  he  pulled  the  coachman  out 
and  laid  him  limp  at  his  wife's  feet.  He  understood 
rather  than  heard  the  question  she  asked.  He  nodded 
his  head  in  affirmative  answer,  and  said,  as  if  talking 
to  himself: 

"  Dead,  Miss  Helen." 

It  had  not  been  more  than  two  minutes  since  the 
fury  of  the  storm  broke  upon  them.  The  rain-drops, 
which  had  been  desultory,  now  came  down  in  torrents. 
Hayward  turned  toward  his  wife.  She  was  sinking 
trembling  to  the  road.  He  caught  her  up  and  hurried 
her  to  the  hut. 

Their  refuge  was  quite  small,  but  afforded  shelter 
from  the  downpour  of  water.  It  was  a  little  patched-up 
affair  that  had  been  used  by  the  labourers  who  con 
structed  the  electric  transmission  line,  and  was  without 
opening  except  the  door,  there  being  no  shutter  to 
that.  A  rude  table  of  rough  planks  built  against  the 
wall  was  its  only  furnishing.  What  had  been  a  small 
bench  was  broken  up  and  useless. 

Hayward  held  Helen  in  his  arms  while  he  inven 
toried  the  contents  in  the  uncertain  light,  but  at  her 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          285 

first  movement  to  free  herself  from  his  embrace  he 
gently  seated  her  on  the  little  table  and  stood  beside 
her  at  the  end  of  it.  She  was  faint  with  horror  and 
fright  and,  closing  her  eyes,  sank  back  against  the  wall 
for  support :  while  the  wind-driven  torrent  howled 
and  surged  past  the  door  and  the  fierce  but  unspeaking 
lightning  lit  up  the  awful  night.  .  .  .  Helen  was  get 
ting  some  sort  of  grip  on  her  nerves  again  when,  turn 
ing  toward  the  door,  in  the  pallid  light  she  had  a 
vision  of  the  ghastly  face  lying  in  the  road  below  them. 
She  shuddered  —  the  faintness  was  overmastering  — 
and  toppled  unconscious  against  her  husband's  arm. 
He  caught  her  tenderly,  not  knowing  she  had  lost 
consciousness,  and,  putting  his  arm  around  her,  drew 
her  softly  and  closely  to  himself. 

For  a  long  time  he  stood  thus  in  silence,  fearing 
that  speech  might  break  the  spell.  At  last  he  spoke 
to  her,  but  she  did  not  answer.  He  ascribed  her 
silence  to  fright,  and  with  gentle  and  reassuring  words 
essayed  to  compose  her  fears.  He  took  note  of  her 
failure  to  speak  to  him :  but  she  was  submissive  to 
his  caresses,  and  he  was  well  content  with  that.  At 
her  non-resistance  he  became  more  affectionate  in  his 
tendernesses,  and  was  lost  in  the  ecstasy  of  holding 
her  to  his  heart. 

Gone  —  far  removed  —  from  him  was  the  thought 
of  the  storm-riven  night.  An  end,  he  exulted,  to 
nightmares  in  which  she  was  fleeing  from  him.  His 
wife  was  in  his  arms  at  last !  The  silent  modesty  with 
which  she  had  committed  herself  to  him  was  eloquent 
of  her  heart's  love  and  faithfulness :  —  and  his  pulses 
sang  with  joy  despite  the  tragedy  that  had  befallen. 


286          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

The  wind  and  rain  were  slackening,  but  the  light 
ning  played  on.  With  a  sigh  and  shiver  Helen 
stirred,  and  pushed  feebly  away. 

"Where  am  I?  Where  are  we?"  she  asked  con 
fusedly. 

"  About  two  miles  and  a  half  from  the  Lake 
Drive,"  Hayward  answered,  "  about  four  miles  from 
home." 

"  But  what  are  we  doing  here?  How  did  we  get 
here?" 

Hayward  started.  In  heaven's  name,  her  mind  was 
not  unsettled ! 

"  The  wreck  —  I  carried  you  in  here  out  of  the 
storm." 

"  Oh  —  yes,  —  now  I  remember,"  Helen  said,  lean 
ing  back  against  the  wall  and  putting  her  hands  before 
her  eyes  as  if  to  shut  out  memory. 

In  a  flash  Hayward  was  in  the  clutch  of  the  old 
terror. 

"  She  did  not  know,  then,"  he  thought.  "  She  was 
unconscious,  and  did  not  give  herself  to  me."  Again 
he  was  on  the  rack,  all  his  doubts  and  fears  and  jeal 
ousies  a-surge,  but  maddened  and  fired  by  the  mem 
ory,  the  lingering  perfume,  of  her  smooth  cheek  and 
warm  lips. 

"  How  long  must  we  stay  here  ? "  Helen  asked, 
starting  up. 

"  Until  the  storm  is  over,  at  the  least.  They  may 
send  after  us  when  we  do  not  arrive  on  time.  I  can 
not  leave  you  here,  or  I  would  go  after  help  now." 

"  No !  you  must  not  leave  me  here !  We  will  wait 
till  help  comes  or  until  —  I  can  go  with  you.  Do  you 
think  it  will  be  long  ?  " 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          287 

Hayward  went  to  the  little  door  and  surveyed  the 
heavens. 

"  Another  storm  seems  to  be  headed  this  way,"  he 
said.  "  If  that  strikes  us  there's  no  telling  when  we 
will  get  away.  We  are  perfectly  safe  here,  however. 
This  cabin  is  built  back  against  the  hill  and  there  are 
no  trees  near  enough  to  fall  on  us." 

"Were  you  hurt?"  asked  Helen  abruptly,  for  the 
first  time  thinking  of  the  dangers  they  had  gone 
through  as  dangers. 

"  Nothing  worth  reporting,"  said  Hayward  in  order 
to  allay  her  fears.  It  was  a  lie  well  told,  for  he  had 
a  decidedly  caved-in  feeling  about  his  ribs. 

"You  saved  my  life  again  —  this  time  at  risk  of 
your  own.  When  the  carriage  was  crushed  I  thought 
that  I  —  oh,  it  is  too  horrible !  "  She  trembled  vio 
lently. 

Hayward  saw  that  he  must  divert  her  thoughts 
from  this  direful  night.  He  was  much  desirous  of 
discussing  other  matters  anyway.  After  a  silent 
minute  he  began. 

"  Your  return  was  quite  unexpected  to  —  us,"  he 
said. 

"  Yes,  and  a  very  short  visit  I'm  to  make  as  it  is. 
I  leave  again  day  after  to-morrow  morning." 

She  stopped  and  apparently  did  not  care  to  say  more 
of  herself  —  or  of  her  plans.  .  .  .  Hayward  was  of 
a  different  mind. 

"  You  didn't  say  anything  of  this  visit  in  your  last 
letter,"  he  ventured. 

"  No,  I  had  not  decided  on  it  then."  .  .  .  Silence 
again. 

"  Helen,  why  did  you  write  me  that  letter?  "  Hay- 


288          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

ward  squared  himself  for  battle  and  fired  the  first 
shot. 

"  I  only  answered  yours  —  your  two  letters,  rather. 
You  insisted  on  making  your  —  demands,  and  I  sim 
ply  told  you  what  I  thought.  You  also  attacked  one 
of  my  friends,  and  I  defended  him." 

Helen  was  not  versed  in  the  art  of  indirection  or 
evasion.  Hayward  was  very  thankful  for  that.  It 
made  the  issue  clear,  and  made  it  quickly. 

"  As  for  your  friend,"  said  Hayward,  "  your  de 
fence  of  him  is  without  knowledge  —  " 

"  As  your  attack  upon  him  was  without  justice," 
Helen  interrupted. 

"  I  said  he  was  a  contemptible  cad,  and  I  stand 
ready  to  prove  it.  You  may  be  the  judge  of  it.  He 
was  my  friend  at  college,  and  our  relations  were  of 
such  intimacy  as  I  have  told  you  about,  and  yet,  know 
ing  me  full  well,  he  refused  to  know  me  in  Washing 
ton,  or  to  shake  hands  with  me,  or  to  speak  to  me, 
even." 

"  Perhaps  he  did  not  remember  you.  Remember  it 
has  been  five  or  six  —  " 

"  I'm  telling  you  he  did  know  me.  He  admitted  it 
—  in  order  that  his  affront  might  be  unequivocal.  I 
tell  you  he's  a  cad,  a  damnable  cad,  and  I  want  you 
to  cut  him  off  your  list.  Promise  me  that  you  will 
have  nothing  more  to  do  with  him." 

The  man  in  his  half-demand,  half-plea,  put  out  his 
arm  toward  her  to  reinforce  his  appeal  with  a  caress, 
but  his  wife  drew  away  from  him  and  warded  off  his 
hand  as  she  spoke  to  him. 

"  No,"  she  cried,  "  I  cannot  believe  it.  There  must 
be  some  explanation  —  I  cannot  do  it  —  I'm  to  be  one 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          289 

of  his  automobile  party  next  Thursday.  .  .  .  Don't 
-  don't !  " 

"What!     May  I  not  kiss  you?" 

"  No,  no.     Not  —  not  now." 

"  But  you  are  my  wife  —  I  have  the  right  to  kiss 
you." 

"  You  have  no  right,"  said  Helen. 

Hayward  grew  suddenly  cold  with  passion. 

"  I  have  every  right  —  more  right  than  that  con 
temptible  Lodge  has  to  put  his  arm  around  you  in 
the  dance!  " 

"  He  at  least  has  my  permission,"  Helen  replied 
spiritedly.  But  she  would  not  have  provoked  him 
perhaps  if  she  had  known  of  the  fever  rising  in  his 
blood  for  all  these  months. 

"Your  permission,  has  he!  And  I  am  to  beg  for 
rights  that  are  mine  —  and  be  refused !  "  His  voice 
rose  in  anger  with  the  roar  and  rush  of  the  new- 
coming  storm. 

"  You  are  mine!  "  he  screamed.  '"  I  forbid  you  to 
meet  him  again !  No  man  shall  take  you  from  me ! 
I  love  you  —  I  love  you  —  and  I  will  kill  any  man 
who  tries  to  rob  me  of  you !  Helen,  Helen,  tell  me 
you  are  mine  —  mine  now !  Not  that  you  will  be 
mine  when  I  win  my  commission,  but  that  you  are 
already  mine  —  mine  now!" 

Helen  turned  away  from  him,  terrified  by  his  vio 
lence  of  speech. .  The  man's  every  passion  went  wild 
as  he  read  refusal  in  her  movement.  Only  for  a 
moment  does  she  look  away,  however.  In  that  in 
stant  she  sees  again  the  dead  coachman,  prone  and 
ghastly  as  before,  but  with  the  end  of  that  blazing 
wire  lying  against  the  back  of  his  head,  from  which 


290          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

rises  the  vapour  of  burning  flesh.  Sickened  with  hor 
ror  she  turns  to  Hayward  and  reaches  out  her  hand 
for  his  support.  He  clutches  her  passionately.  His 
blood  rushes  to  his  heart  in  a  flood  —  and  then  stands 
still. 

"  This  is  surrender,"  he  thinks,  —  and  his  veins 
are  aflame. 

Helen  is  quiescent  in  his  arms  for  a  short  space 
and  suffers  his  caresses.  Suddenly  startled,  she  looks 
at  his  face.  In  a  flash  of  light  she  sees  it  —  distorted ! 
With  a  shriek  of  terror  she  wildly  tries  to  push  him 
from  her:  but  the  demon  of  the  blood  of  Guinea 
Gumbo  is  pitiless,  and  against  the  fury  of  it,  as  of  the 
storm,  she  fights  and  cries  —  in  vain. 


CHAPTER    XXIX 

WITH  his  editorial  duties  and  with  the  plans  of  his 
campaign  for  Mr.  Killam's  seat  in  the  Senate,  Evans 
Rutledge  was  as  busy  a  man  as  Washington  knew. 
However,  he  dropped  his  work  long  enough  to  attend 
upon  Lola  DeVale's  marriage.  He  was  no  little  sur 
prised  when  Oliver  Hazard  asked  him  to  stand  by  at 
his  wedding.  He  was  on  friendly  terms  with  the  bride 
—  and  with  Hazard,  too,  for  that  matter ;  but  he  did 
not  know  the  strength  and  sincerity  of  Lola  DeVale's 
friendship  for  him. 

"  We  must  have  Mr.  Rutledge,"  she  had  said  to 
Hazard  when  they  were  choosing  their  attendants; 
"  and  he  shall  be  paired  with  Elise.  I  have  set  my 
heart  on  that  match,  for  if  it  fails  I  have  been  kissed 
for  nothing." 

"  Certainly  we'll  have  him  if  you  wish.  He's  a 
great  fellow,  I  think,  and  he'll  be  a  winner  all  right, 
don't  worry  yourself.  He'll  win  out  on  naked  luck, 
for  any  man  who  can  just  stumble  along  and  kiss  you 
by  mistake  is  evidently  a  special  protege  of  the 
gods."  .  .  . 

The  score  or  more  of  young  people  in  the  bridal 
party  met  at  Grace  Church  on  the  afternoon  before 
the  event  to  get  the  details  of  their  marching  and 
countermarching  in  order.  Lola  was  there  to  over 
look  putting  them  through  their  paces,  but  she  left  the 
details  of  straightening  out  the  chattering,  rollicking 

291 


292          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

bridesmaids  and  groomsmen  to  Elise  and  Hazard. 
Rutledge  soon  learned  his  role  and  stood  to  it  like  a 
schoolboy  when  he  was  ordered,  but  he  spent  most  of 
the  time  in  sympathetic  talk  with  the  bride-to-be. 

That  night  when  the  other  girls  who  filled  the  house 
were  scattered  to  their  rooms  and  Elise  and  Lola  were 
snuggled  up  in  bed,  Lola  put  her  arm  around  her 
friend  and  began  to  say  what  was  on  her  mind. 

"  I  think  it's  very  rude  to  refuse  to  answer  a  civil 
question,  don't  you,  Elise  ?  " 

'Elise  was  thinking  of  something  else,  but  she  heard 
enough  of  what  Lola  said  to  answer  "  yes  "  in  an 
absent-minded  way. 

"  That  would  be  so  with  any  question.  But  if  it 
was  about  a  matter  of  importance  the  refusal  to  an 
swer  would  be  more  than  rude,  it  would  be  —  exas 
perating,  don't  you  think?" 

"What  are  you  talking  about?"  Elise  asked. 

"  And  if  it  were  a  matter  of  the  very  greatest  im 
portance,"  Lola  continued,  "  and  by  every  right  and 
custom  an  answer  of  some  sort  was  due,  and  one  was 
flatly  told  there  was  no  answer,  then  such  unpardon 
able  rudeness  should  be  resented,  and  self-respect 
would  demand  that  the  question  be  not  repeated." 

"  Lola  DeVale,"  said  Elise,  turning  to  face  her, 
"  in  the  name  of  sense,  have  you  gone  daffy?  " 

"  I  agree  with  Mr.  Rutledge,"  said  Lola  in  the  same 
monotone,  as  she  in  turn  faced  away  from  Elise,  "  self- 
respect  forbids." 

"  Here,"  exclaimed  Elise,  "  turn  back  over  here 
and  say  all  that  again." 

"  Haven't  time,"  said  Lola  with  a  yawn.  "  I  must 
be  getting  my  beauty-sleep.  Good  night." 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          293 

'Elise  was  quiet  half  a  minute. 

"Of  all  the  silly  people!"  -she  stirred  Lola  up 
with  a  poke  in  the  ribs  —  "  when  did  he  tell  you 
that?" 

"  I'm  not  divulging  any  confidences/'  said  Lola. 

"  And  what,  pray,  are  you  divulging?  "  asked  Elise. 

"  My  opinion  that  a  civil  question  demands  an  an 
swer  of  some  sort  —  a  good  round  '  no,'  if  nothing 
else  —  not  the  dismissal  one  gives  a  telegraph  mes 
senger." 

"  There  you  go  again  —  and  I  don't  understand ; 
but  you  said  something  of  '  self-respect '  ?  " 

"  I'm  glad  he  has  it.  A  man's  not  made  for  a 
woman  to  wipe  her  feet  on.  even  if  he  does  love  her." 

"  For  goodness  sake,  Lola,  quit  making  riddles. 
Just  what  do  you  think  you  are  talking  about?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,"  demanded  Lola,  turn 
ing  toward  her,  "  that  Mr.  Rutledge  did  not  ask  you 
to  marry  him  and  that  you  didn't  tell  him  there  was 
no  anszvcr,  —  that  you  didn't  treat  him  with  contempt, 
with  indifference,  with  just  about  as  much  considera 
tion  as  you  would  a  clerk  who  gave  you  a  hand-bill  of 
a  cut-price  sale?  There  now!" 

"  So  that's  the  cause  of  all  this  —  this  self-respect, 
the  reason  for  all  this  religious  silence  of  his  lips  — 
while   his    eyes   work   overtime?      I    thought    it   was 
becau —  that   it  —  that   there   was    really   something; 
and  is  that  all !  "  Elise  laughed  merrily. 

"  I  think  it's  shameful,  myself !  "  said  Lola  severely. 
"  T  glory  in  his  resentment." 

"  I  have  never  noticed  any  resentment,  and  —  I  did 
not  treat  him  so,"  replied  the  quick-witted  Elise  com 
batively.  Quietly  her  heart  laughed  on. 


294          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

"  You  deny  it?  "  asked  Lola. 

"  Yes,  I  deny  it.  He  did  not  ask  me  to  marry  him. 
He  simply  told  me  —  quite  abruptly  —  that  he  loved 
me,  and,  after  some  time,  asked  me  for  my  answer. 
What  was  I  to  answer?  When  there  is  no  question 
there  can  be  no  answer.  So  I  told  him  there  was  no 
answer.  If  a  man  will  insist  upon  an  answer  he  must 
not  be  so  stupid  as  to  forget  to  put  a  question." 

Elise  chuckled  inwardly  as  she  constructed  this 
specious  defence.  She  was  in  very  good  humour  with 
herself,  —  and  with  Lola. 

"  But  promise  me,"  she  hurried  on  to  say,  "  that 
you  will  not  intimate  to  Mr.  Rutledge  that  it  is  his 
stupidity  that  has  swelled  his  bump  of  self-respect  for 
these  last  four  years." 

Lola  demurred  to  this  form  of  statement :  bless  her, 
she  was  a  loyal  friend.  But  Elise  insisted. 

"  Not  a  word  to  Mr.  Rutledge !  Let  him  discover 
his  mistakes  unaided.  Promise  me.  Promise,"  she 
demanded. 

Lola  promised. 

"  Cross  your  heart  and  hope  you  may  die,"  Elise 
added. 

Lola  laughingly  went  through  these  binding  for 
malities. 

"  Now  the  goblins  will  get  you  if  you  ever  tell  him, 
and  besides  that  I  would  know  it  at  once.  If  you  do 
I'll  send  him  packing  for  good  and  all." 

Lola  protested  that  she  would  leave  Mr.  Rutledge 
entirely  to  his  own  devices,  —  and  she  kept  her 
promise. 

Lola  had  insisted  on  retiring  early  for  a  good 
night's  rest,  but  it  was  long  after  midnight  before  she 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          295 

and  her  school-day  chum  grew  sleepy  over  their  con 
fidences.  Along  at  the  last  Elise  pressed  her  face 
down  in  the  pillow  beside  Lola's  cheek  and  whispered : 

"  Honey,  if  it  wasn't  very  dark  and  our  last  night 
together  I  couldn't  tell  you ;  but  do  you  know  if  Mr. 
Rutledge  were  to  ask  me  to  marry  him  to-morrow  I 
would  have  to  tell  him  there  was  no  answer." 

Lola  lay  still  till  she  caught  the  meaning  of  this 
confession.  Then  she  softly  kissed  Elise  good-night. 

"  Let  your  heart  decide,  dearest,"   she  said. 

At  the  wedding  breakfast  next  morning,  and  at  the 
church  at  noon,  Rutledge  was  bewildered  by  the  soft 
ness,  the  gentleness  of  Elise' s  manner  toward  him. 
There  was  nothing  of  the  cold  brilliance,  nor  of  the 
warm  combativeness,  nor  of  the  lukewarm  indifference 
of  her  moods  for  such  a  long  time  past.  Like  the 
breath  of  long  forgotten  summers,  of  one  particular 
halcyon  summer,  was  her  simple-hearted  friendliness 
on  that  day.  He  harked  back  by  a  conscious  effort  to 
keep  in  touch  with  his  grievance,  but  it  seemed  to  be 
eluding  his  grasp. 

For  a  great  part  of  five  hours  on  the  train  return 
ing  to  Washington  he  sat  beside  her  and  steadily  for 
got  everything  that  had  come  to  pass  since  the  days 
when  he  first  knew  and  loved  this  adorable  girl.  His 
resentment  and  his  resolutions  were  toppling  and  fall 
ing,  despite  his  efforts  at  reserve  in  his  few  scattering 
lucid  intervals  of  "  self-respect." 

Elise,  outrageously  well-informed  of  the  reasons 
and  resources  and  weaknesses  of  his  resistance,  almost 
laughed  outright  at  the  ease  with  which  she  scattered 
his  forces  and  at  his  spasmodic  attempts  to  regather 
them.  She  recalled  the  risrour  of  her  treatment  of 


296  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

him,  the  contempt  she  had  had  for  the  quality  of  his 
love,  the  apparent  heartless  lack  of  appreciation  of  his 
championship  of  her  name  in  the  Smith  affair :  and 
she  was  of  a  mind  to  make  amends.  In  making 
amends  she  tore  Rutledge's  resentment  and  "  self- 
respect  "  to  tatters,  and  set  his  love  a-fire.  She  really 
did  not  intend  to  overdo  it.  She  sincerely  wished  only 
to  make  amends. 

At  last  he  turned  to  her  with  a  look  which  scared 
her.  She  saw  that  the  last  shred  of  his  "  self-respect  " 
was  gone,  and  that  only  the  crowded  car  prevented  a 
precipitate,  outspoken  surrender.  She  felt  very  gen 
erous  toward  that  "  self-respect "  now  that  it  was 
defeated.  She  did  not  care  to  humiliate  it.  She  was 
also  in  a  temper  to  be  mischievous  and  a  mite  reckless. 
And,  further,  she  was  not  ready  to  have  Rutledge  put 
ting  any  questions.  As  the  train  was  rolling  under 
the  shed  at  Washington  she  said  to  him  in  the  very 
friendliest  and  most  serious  way : 

"  Mr.  Rutledge,  it  seems  that  you  are  under  the 
delusion  that  once  upon  a  time  you  asked  me  a  ques 
tion  which  has  never  been  answered.  In  order  that  I 
may  not  appear  rude  or  unappreciative  I  will  say  that 
my  answer  to  that  question  would  have  been  '  no.'  ' 

And  she  left  him  to  think  over  that. 


CHAPTER    XXX 

ON  the  day  that  Congress  convened  after  the 
Christmas  holidays  President  Phillips  sent  to  the  Sen 
ate,  among  other  nominations,  that  of  John  H. 
Graham  to  be  a  second  lieutenant  of  cavalry. 

Hayward  had  been  for  a  long  time  unhappy,  de 
pressed,  apprehensive  of  failure.  That  his  name  had 
not  been  among  those  submitted  at  the  beginning  of 
the  session  in  December  had  almost  assured  his  defeat. 

All  his  attempts  at  communication  with  Helen  since 
the  night  of  the  storm  had  been  met  with  an  accusing 
silence.  Her  pale  face,  which  had  not  regained  its 
colour  for  weeks,  was  always  averted,  and  by  no  trick 
or  chance,  by  no  wild  torrent  of  self-denunciation, 
nor  heart-moving  prayer  for  pardon,  nor  protestations 
of  love,  nor  dumb  humility  of  sorrow  in  his  eyes  or 
attitude,  could  she  be  brought  to  look  upon  him. 
Neither  had  she  written  a  line  in  answer  to  all  his 
letters  of  pleading  and  repentance.  True,  he  had  his 
fiery  moments  of  self-assertion  and  desperate  resolves, 
and  they  had  fought  self-revilings  for  possession  of 
his  soul  in  many  an  hour  since  that  wild  night,  but  he 
crushed  them  under  heel  within  his  heart,  and  ever 
wrote  contritely  to  his  wife. 

For  several  days  after  his  nomination  went  to  the 
Senate  he  waited  in  hope  to  receive  Helen's  congratu 
lations.  It  had  meant  so  much  to  them.  With  a  last 

297 


298          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

remnant  of  hope  he  wrote  to  her  of  it.  If  that  would 
not  break  the  silence  he  was  undone.  At  the  end  of 
the  letter  he  added  in  most  abject  contrition : 

"  I  would  joyfully  die  to  atone.  My  life  awaits 
your  command." 

The  silence  was  not  broken. 

Miss  Lily  Porter's  eyes  had  not  fallen  on  Hayward 
since  his  return  from  Hill-Top.  When  she  saw  in  the 
papers  that  his  nomination  was  before  the  Senate  she 
hesitated  not  to  write  to  him  to  come  to  see  her.  On 
his  first  night  off,  Hayward  went. 

If  ever  a  man  was  pursued  by  a  woman  the  White 
House  footman  was  that  man.  He  saw  the  game 
ahead  of  him  before  he  had  been  five  minutes  within 
the  door.  A  proposal  was  expected  of  him.  Clearly, 
it  was  expected  that  evening.  Hayward  was  in  a 
frame  of  mind  to  welcome  the  diversion.  He  had  no 
idea  of  making  the  proposal,  of  course,  but  he  was 
careless  enough  of  what  should  happen  to  him  to  be 
quite  willing  to  give  Miss  Porter  the  worth  of  her 
trouble  in  the  way  of  mild  excitement. 

Lily  opened  up  the  subject  with  her  congratula 
tions  :  and  the  game  was  on.  Up  and  down,  back  and 
forth,  round  and  round  the  field  of  conversation  she 
chased  the  quick-tongued,  nimble-witted  young  fellow 
in  her  effort  to  coax,  persuade,  lead,  drive,  push  him 
into  the  net.  The  young  man  was  entertaining,  but 
elusive.  He  was  gallant,  admiring,  soft-spoken,  con 
fiding  —  but  there  was  no  way  of  bringing  him  to 
book.  The  girl  took  another  tack.  She  went  to  the 
piano  and  sang  for  him.  She  sang  for  him  at  first, 
many  of  the  ballads  and  one  thing  and  another  that 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  299 

he  formerly  had  delighted  in.  Then  she  sang  to  him. 
Hayward  leaned  against  the  piano  and  listened  with  a 
very  lively  appreciation.  Music  had  a  power  for  him 
where  many  other  things  would  fail,  and  the  music 
in  Lily  Porter's  throat  was  enough  to  enthrall  even 
though  he  were  deaf  to  the  song  in  her  heart. 

Henry  Porter  was  caught  by  the  real  note  in  his 
daughter's  voice  as  he  passed  the  door,  and,  stopping 
where  he  could  see  as  well  as  hear,  he  was  enlightened 
by  the  tale  her  face  was  telling.  He  was  mad  all  over 
in  a  minute,  and  he  made  short  work  of  it. 

"  Git  out  of  my  house,"  he  blurted  out  at  Hayward 
as  he  stalked  angrily  into  the  midst  of  Lily's  melodious 
love-making.  "  I  tol'  you  once  I  didn'  want  any  foot 
man  callin'  on  my  daughter !  " 

"  Oh,  papa !  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  Lily  cried, 
springing  up  from  the  piano. 

"  I  mean  git  out  when  I  say  git  out!  " 

"  Wait  a  moment,  Mr.  Hayward,"  Lily  called  to 
the  footman,  who,  chin  in  air,  was  leaving  the  room, 
truth  to  tell,  no  little  relieved  at  this  complete  solution 
of  what  was  fast  becoming  an  embarrassing  situation 
for  him. 

"  No  use  to  wait.  Move  on !  "  the  father  growled, 
placing  himself  across  the  door  to  prevent  Lily's  fol 
lowing  her  caller.  Upon  her  attempt  to  push  by  him 
he  caught  her  and  shoved  her  into  a  chair.  As  the 
outer  door  closed  with  a  very  modest  and  well-man 
nered  snap,  he  released  his  hold  upon  her  arm.  He 
was  yet  in  a  fury. 

"  So  you've  lied  to  me !  Thought  you  could  fool 
your  ol'  daddy !  But  I  guess  not !  " 

"  I  haven't  lied  to  you." 


300          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

'  You  have !  You  tol'  me  you  were  goin'  to  marry 
a  military  man,  and  here  you  are,  dead  gone  on  this 
footman  —  and  no  use  to  deny  out  of  it!  " 

Lily  didn't  attempt  to  deny  it. 

"  Umhuh,  I  knew  it !  Already  promised  him,  ain't 
yuh?" 

No  denial  of  that  either,  to  her  father's  consterna 
tion. 

"What!  And  you  a-tellin'  me  all  the  time  you 
were  goin'  to  marry  a  military  man !  You  lyin' 
huzzy!  " 

"  But  he's  a  military  man  —  he's  the  John  H. 
Graham  whose  commission  is  before  the  Senate  — 
now  I  hope  you  are  satisfied !  " 

Henry  Porter  stopped  his  stamping  about  and 
looked  at  his  daughter  several  seconds  in  silence. 

"  He's  —  he's  who  ?  "  he  asked  in  astonishment. 

"  He's  the  same  John  H.  Graham  you  were  reading 
about  in  the  Post  this  morning  —  the  man  the  Presi 
dent  has  appointed  a  lieutenant  in  the  cavalry." 

"  But  his  name's  not  Graham." 

"  His  name  is  Graham  —  John  Hayward  Graham 
-  Lieutenant  John  Hayward  Graham  when  the  Sen 
ate  confirms  it." 

Old  Henry  looked  a  little  bit  nonplussed.  His 
daughter  took  courage.  She  jumped  up  and  grabbed 
him. 

"  Come  on  right  now  and  write  him  arr  apology, 
and  send  it  so  that  it  will  get  to  his  rooms  by  the  time 
he  does!" 

Old  Henry  demurred.  His  dignity  was  a  very  real 
thing  —  as  hard  and  substantial  as  his  dollars. 

"  Oh,  no,  no.     Wait  awhile.     Le's  think  about  it. 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          301 

No  use  to  be  in  a  hurry.  He'll  come  back  agin.  What 
did  he  go  sneakin'  roun'  here  without  his  name  for 
if  he  wanted  people  to  treat  him  right?  A  man's  got 
no  business  monkeyin'  with  his  name." 

"  But  you  must  write  him  an  apology,  papa.  You 
just  must !  " 

"  Oh,  well,  mebbe  I  will.  But  I'll  wait  till  to-mor- 
rer.  Better  wait  till  the  Senate  confirms  him  though, 
and  be  certain  about  it." 

"  Oh,  no !  That  would  never  do.  It  would  be  too 
plain,"  —  and  Lily  went  into  a  long  disquisition  to 
fetch  her  hard-headed  old  daddy  to  her  way  of  think 
ing.  He  showed  some  signs  of  relenting  but  could 
not  be  persuaded  that  night.  When  the  morning  came 
it  took  all  her  powers  to  push  him  to  the  point  of 
sending  a  suitable  note  to  Hayward :  but  she  accom 
plished  it.  Hayward's  stinging,  sarcastic,  withering 
reply  was  not  written  till  late  in  the  afternoon,  and 
in  the  footman's  agitation  over  other  concerns  was  not 
mailed  till  his  mother  found  it  in  his  room  on  the  day 
after  that.  By  the  time  Mr.  Henry  Porter  received 
it,  other  events  had  come  to  pass  that  gave  it  some 
emphasis.  .  .  . 

When  Hayward  Graham  returned  to  his  room  after 
his  dismissal  from  Porter's  house  he  found  a  letter 
addressed  to  him  in  his  wife's  writing.  He  tore  it 
open  hungrily. 

"  You  say  you  would  joyfully  die  to  atone.  That 
would  be  the  very  best  thing  you  could  do  —  the  only 
fitting  thing  you  could  do.  —  H." 

'A  grim  smile  lighted  the  man's  face.  At  the  mo 
ment  the  blood  of  some  long-dead  cavalier  ancestor 


302          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

splashed  through  his  heart,  and  he  wrote  the  brief 
reply. 

"  Your  wish  is  law,  and  shall  be  obeyed.     Grant 
me  one  day  to  put  my  house  in  order." 


Her  maid  handed  the  message  to  Helen  before  she 
was  out  of  bed  the  next  morning.  The  girl  read  it, 
caught  its  meaning,  and  shook  with  an  ague  of  fear. 
Her  love  for  her  husband,  outraged  and  stricken,  may 
not  have  been  dead  —  for  who  shall  speak  the  last 
word  for  a  woman's  heart  ?  —  and  her  tender  soul 
recoiled  at  the  murder  so  calmly  forespoken :  and 
yet  neither  of  these  impulses  was  elemental  in  her 
agony  of  terror.  Her  impetuous  letter  of  the  day 
before,  breaking  a  silence  she  had  sworn  to  keep, 
was  not  intended  as  a  reply  to  anything  that  Hay- 
ward  had  written.  It  was  but  a  wild  protest  against 
the  new-born  realization  that  her  situation  was 
tragic,  and  could  not  be  ignored  nor  long  con 
cealed.  She  had  not  meant  to  suggest  or  to  counsel 
death,  but  to  rail  against  life.  The  possibility  of 
his  taking-off  had  not  occurred  to  her.  His  letter 
terrified  her !  Death  !  —  her  husband's  death  ?  It 
was  the  one  thing  that  must  not  be!  When  she  had 
read  his  words,  her  blood  was  ice.  "  No!  No!  "  her 
teeth  chattered  as  she  dressed,  "  he  must  not,  he  must 
not !  "  In  the  nervousness,  the  weakness,  the  faintness, 
the  sickness  into  which  fevered  meditations  upon  the 
day-old  revelation  had  shaken  her,  she  did  not  think 
to  question  the  sincerity  of  Hayward's  purpose  at  self- 
destruction.  The  calamity  was  imminent  —  and 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          303 

trebly  calamitous.  The  chill  of  more  than  death  was 
upon  her.  When  she  had  dressed  she  dashed  off  a 
hurried  scrawl. 

"  No,  no,  no.  I  did  not  mean  that.  It  is  not  my 
wish  that  you  destroy  yourself.  You  must  not.  You 
must  not!  I  need  you  —  above  everything  I  need 
you.  If  you  die  I  am  undone!  Where  is  our  marriage 
certificate?  Or  was  there  one?  And  who  was  that 
witness?  Do  not  die,  do  not  die.  As  you  love  me 
do  not  die! " 

She  carefully  arranged  every  detail  of  her  toilet, 
pinched  her  pale  cheeks  into  something  of  pink,  put  on 
her  morning  smile,  and,  with  a  very  conscious  effort 
at  lightness  of  manner,  tripped  out  into  the  hall  and 
down  the  stairs.  She  knew  the  very  spot  on  which 
she  would  see  her  husband  standing.  With  a  round 
about  journey  she  approached  it.  He  was  not  there. 
She  laughed  nervously,  and  with  an  aimless  air,  but 
a  faster  thumping  heart,  sought  him  at  another  haunt. 
Failure.  And  failure  again.  She  went  to  breakfast, 
and  displayed  a  lack  of  appetite  and  a  tendency  to 
hysterics.  After  breakfast  she  lingered  down-stairs 
on  every  conceivable  pretext,  and  journeyed  from  one 
end  of  the  house  to  the  other  many  times  and  again. 
At  last  when  her  nerves  could  not  stand  the  strain  a 
second  longer  she  asked  the  coachman,  who  had  driven 
the  carriage  to  the  door,  where  Hayward  was.  She 
felt  that  there  was  a  full  confession  in  the  tones  of 
her  voice. 

"  Hayward  asked  for  a  day  off  this  mornin',  mum. 
He  didn't  come.  Just  telephoned." 


304          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

Helen  felt  the  tension  of  her  nerves  snap.  She 
hurried  to  her  room,  suppressing  fairly  by  force  an 
impulse  to  scream,  and  locking  the  door,  threw  herself 
across  the  bed.  There  for  three  hours,  pleading  a 
headache  and  denying  admittance  to  all  who  knocked, 
she  cowered  before  the  thoughts  of  her  seething  brain 
—  and  suffered  torment. 

Along  about  two  o'clock  she  sprang  up  suddenly  and 
turned  out  of  her  trunk  all  of  her  husband's  letters  and 
began  feverishly  to  search  for  one  she  remembered 
written  long  ago  which  by  chance  contained  the  street 
number  of  his  lodgings.  She  was  nearly  an  hour 
finding  it. 

Again  she  went  through  the  womanly  process  of 
making  herself  presentable,  and  sauntered  freshly 
forth  in  quest  of  the  post  office  and  a  special  delivery 
stamp.  With  an  added  prayer  that  he  relieve  her  sus 
pense  quickly,  she  dropped  her  agonized  note  into  the 
box  under  the  hurry  postage.  Having  thus  done  all 
that  was  possible  to  save  her  husband's  life  —  and  her 
own  —  she  went  back  to  her  bed  in  collapse,  and 
waited  for  the  night- fall  as  one,  hoping  for  a  reprieve, 
who  must  die  at  sunset. 


CHAPTER    XXXI 

HELEN  waited  in  vain  for  a  word  from  her  hus 
band.  Her  letter  did  not  come  to  his  hand.  She 
tossed  in  agonized  suspense  through  the  long  hours  — 
through  the  snail-paced  minutes  —  through  the  drag 
ging,  tortured  moments. 

Elise  came  in  to  see  her.  Helen  gave  the  first  ex 
planation  of  her  indisposition  that  came  to  mind,  and 
declined  all  ministrations.  Her  mother  came,  and  she 
would  have  dismissed  her  as  briefly  had  not  Mrs. 
Phillips  asserted  authority  and  ordered  her  into  bed 
and  suggested  calling  the  family  physician.  At  this 
intimation  Helen  demurred.  She  felt  that  she  would 
suffocate  if  she  were  to  be  tucked  up  and  made  to  lie 
quiet,  with  the  doctor  fingering  her  pulse  and  talking 
of  sleeping  potions  while  her  soul  was  throbbing  in 
such  a  frenzy  of  horror. 

To  escape  from  them  and  from  herself,  she  sud 
denly  sat  up  and  announced  her  intention  of  attending 
the  dancing  party  which  Elise  was  giving  for  the 
evening.  There  was  a  vigorous  opposition  to  this 
procedure  by  both  her  mother  and  Elise,  and  by  her 
father  also,  who  had  come  in  to  have  a  look  at  her: 
but  she  outwilled  them  all. 

Elise's  dancing  party  was  an  affair  to  be  remem 
bered  —  an  affair  that  is  remembered.  It  deserved 

306 


306          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

to  be  an  unusual  occasion,  for  in  arranging  it  Elise 
was  conscious  of  being  in  an  unusual  frame  of  mind. 
She  was  in  some  way  disposed  to  be  so  perfectly  even- 
handed  in  her  dispensations.  She  directed  the  three 
invitations  to  Mr.  Evans  Rutledge,  Captain  George 
St.  Lawrence  Howard  and  Senator  Joseph  Richland 
with  her  own  hand  and  with  almost  one  continuous 
stroke  of  the  pen.  She  took  this  batch  of  three  in 
vitations  as  a  separate  handful  and  placed  them  to 
gether  in  the  basket  for  the  mail.  She  assigned  to 
each  of  these  gentlemen  one  dance  with  herself,  and 
one  only,  in  the  programme  of  the  formal  first  half  of 
the  evening.  She  appointed  as  attendants  for  the 
eleven  o'clock  collation  Mr.  Rutledge  to  Mrs.  Hazard, 
Captain  Howard  to  Helen,  and  Senator  Richland  to 
Alice  Mackenzie  —  the  fiancee  of  Donald  MacLane. 
In  everything  she  was  judicially  impartial.  She 
played  no  favourites. 

Her  plans  carried  through  charmingly,  and  after 
dancing  through  the  card  a  delighted  lot  of  guests  sat 
down  to  the  light  luncheon,  though  three  men  in  the 
party,  despite  all  their  gallant  attentions  to  the  women 
beside  them,  were  using  half  of  their  brains  at  least  in 
planning  for  the  catch-as-catch-can  hour  and  a  half 
that  was  to  follow.  Elise  had  smiled  upon  them 
equally  and  tormentingly,  and  not  a  man  of  them  but 
felt  that  the  briefest  little  five  minutes  tetc-a-tcte  might 
do  magical  things. 

"  Well,"  said  Lola,  after  she  and  Rutledge  had 
effervesced  in  a  few  minutes  of  commonplaces  and 
conventionalities,  "  is  your  money  still  on  the  Eng 
lishman  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Rutledge,  "  I've  quit  gambling." 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          307 

"Lost  your  sporting  nerve?" 

"  No,  not  that ;  but  a  man  who  bets  against  himself 
deserves  to  lose,  and  I  can't  afford  to  lose." 

"  But  your  self-respect?  "  laughed  Lola. 

"  Now  Miss  —  ah  —  Mrs.  Hazard,  don't  jump  on 
a  fellow  when  he's  down.  Self-respect  is  nothing  less 
than  an  abomination  when  it  comes  between  a  man 
and  a  girl  like  —  that,  —  and  besides,  she  didn't  mean 
it  that  way." 

"Oh,  didn't  she?" 

"  No,  she  didn't,  and  she's  just  the  finest,  dearest 
woman  in  the  whole  wide  —  unmarried  state!  " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Lola,  "  but  you  needn't  have 
minded.  And  so  I'm  to  congratulate  you?  I've  been 
so  anxious  to  hear,  but  our  mail  has  never  caught  up 
with  us  since  the  day  we  left  New  York." 

"  Oh,  bless  your  heart,  there  are  no  congratulations 
—  only  good  wishes,  I  hope.  Take  note  of  the  exact 
mathematical  equality  in  the  distances  by  which  Rich- 
land  and  Sir  Monocle  and  I  are  removed  from  the 
chair  of  the  Lady  Beautiful.  Could  anything  be  more 
beautifully  impartial?" 

"And  who  is  the  ancient  gentleman  with  Elise?" 
Lola  asked. 

"  Some  old  party  from  York  State.  Bachelor  uncle 
or  cousin  or  some  such  chap  —  quite  a  character  too, 
it  seems  —  danced  with  Dolly  Madison  or  Martha 
Washington  or  the  Queen  of  Sheba  or  somebody  like 
that  in  his  youth.  Miss  Phillips  was  telling  me  of 
him  awhile  ago." 

'  That  was  a  very  safe  subject  of  discussion,"  said 
Lola. 

"  Yes,"  Rutledge  replied  grimly,  "  and  do  you  know 


308          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

I  tried  my  very  hardest  to  lose  him  out  of  the  con 
versation  and  he  just  wouldn't  drop.  Miss  Phillips 
must  be  greatly  interested  in  him." 

"  Anything  will  do  in  a  pinch,  Mr.  Rutleclge.  What 
were  you  trying  to  talk  about?  " 

"  Oh,  that's  it,  you  think  ?  Well  I  wish  I  had  ten 
good  minutes  with  her.  I'd  make  the  talk  —  for  half 
the  time  —  or  know  the  reason  why." 

"  I  think  I  remember  that  Elise  told  me  once  that 
you  could  be  very  abrupt." 

"  Yes,  and  I'm  going  to  do  a  few  stunts  in  abrupt 
ness  that  will  surprise  her  the  next  time  I  have  a 
chance.  I've  tried  the  easy  and  graceful  approach  for 
the  last  six  weeks,  and  it's  getting  on  my  nerves." 

"  I  tell  you  what,  Mr.  Rutledge,"  Lola  laughed, 
"  Elise  is  to  be  with  me  to-morrow  evening.  You 
come  around  after  dinner,  and  I  promise  you  shall 
have  a  square  deal  and  ten  minutes  at  least  for  your 
very  own.  Come  early  and  avoid  the  rush." 

"  Good.     I'll  do  it.     You  are  a  trump!  " 

"  And  you  may  run  along  now  if  you  wish,"  she 
said  as  they  came  out  of  the  dining-room,  "  and  take 
her  away  from  the  old  party  before  the  others  get  a 
chance  at  her." 

"  You'll  go  to  heaven  when  you  die,"  Rutledge 
whispered  as  he  left  her.  .  .  . 

Evans  met  some  difficulty  in  cutting  Elise  out  of  the 
herd.  It  took  time  and  determination  and  some 
strategy  to  carry  the  smiling  young  hostess  off  down 
the  hall  alone ;  but  he  brought  it  to  pass,  and  drew  a 
breath  of  exultation  when  he  had  shaken  himself  free. 
However,  turn  where  he  would,  every  nook  and  corner 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          309 

seemed  to  be  occupied.  He  was  not  openly  on  the 
hunt  for  a  retired  spot,  but  he  was  wishing  for  one 
with  a  prayerful  heart  and  wide-open  eyes. 

Now  a  man  can  make  love  to  a  girl  right  out  in  the 
open  —  in  full  view  of  the  multitude  —  in  fact  there  is 
a  sort  of  fascination  in  it  —  in  telling  her  what  a  dear 
she  is  with  the  careless  air  and  gesture  \vhich,  to  the 
onlookers,  suggests  a  remark  anent  the  blizzard  in  the 
west  or  the  hot  times  in  South  Carolina;  but  when 
it  comes  to  putting  the  cap-sheaf  on  the  courting  and 
running  the  game  to  earth,  in  pushing  the  inquiry  to 
ultimate  conclusions  and  demanding  the  supreme  reply, 
—  a  man  who  dares  to  hope  to  win  and  whose  blood 
has  not  been  thinned  by  promiscuous  flirtations  ever 
wants  the  girl  to  be  in  a  situation  grab-able. 

When  Evans  became  convinced  that  the  fates  were 
against  him  on  that  evening,  he  set  definite  plans  in 
order  for  the  next. 

"  Mrs.  Hazard  tells  me  that  you  are  to  be  with  her 
to-morrow  evening,"  he  said  to  Elise,  with  something 
of  that  abruptness.  "  May  I  not  call  upon  you  there  ? 
There  is  something  I  wish  very  much  to  tell  you,  and 
the  crowd  here  is  always  too  great." 

Elise  looked  up  at  him  quickly.  The  something  he 
wished  to  tell  her  was  to  be  read  in  his  face,  but  she 
could  not  presume  to  assume  it  had  been  said.  The 
man  waited  quietly  for  his  answer. 

"  Why,  certainly,  yes,  I  will  be  very  glad  to  see 
you,"  she  said  in  a  tone  of  conventional  politeness; 
but  assuredly,  Rutledge  thought,  the  light  in  her  gray 
eyes  was  not  discouraging. 

"  But  I  must  be  going  now,  if  you  will  take  me 


310          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

back,"  she  said ;  and  they  turned  to  go  up  the  hall.  A 
lumbering  crash  and  a  stifled  little  cry  changed  their 
purpose. 

Three  minutes  before,  they  had  seen  Helen  and 
Harry  Lodge  turn  a  corner  in  the  hall  and  pass  round 
behind  some  of  the  overflowing  greenery  which  almost 
shut  off  a  side  entrance.  Lodge  was  as  intent  upon 
the  pursuit  of  Helen  as  Rutledge  of  Elise,  and  was 
making  more  of  his  opportunities.  Helen  was  wel 
coming  any  excitement  that  carried  her  out  of  herself. 
With  Lodge's  pushfulness  and  her  indifference  to 
consequences,  it  did  not  take  long  to  bring  the  issue 
to  a  point.  From  her  manner  Harry  did  not  gather 
the  faintest  idea  of  losing.  She  listened  to  his  speeches 
with  a  smile  which  was  not  in  the  least  false  but  none 
the  less  deceiving.  She  did  not  offer  the  slightest  ob 
jection  to  his  wooing  nor  put  the  smallest  obstruction 
in  the  way  of  it.  In  his  enthusiasm  he  developed  an 
eloquence,  and,  taking  her  unresisting  hand,  he  rushed 
along  to  the  climax  of  a  rapturous  declaration. 

"  —  And  will  you  be  my  wife?  "  he  asked,  with  his 
arm  already  half  about  her. 

"  No,"  Helen  answered  dispassionately,  drawing 
herself  back  from  him  as  if  his  meaning  were  but  just 
now  made  clear  to  her :  but  that  "  no  "  came  too  late. 

A  pair  of  eyes  in  which  the  lightnings  had  gath 
ered  and  gone  wild  had  looked  upon  the  whole  of  this 
tender  scene  except  the  last  moments  of  it.  Hayward 
Graham  felt  the  devils  in  the  blood  of  all  his  ances 
tors  white  and  black  cry  to  be  uncaged  as  he  looked 
upon  Lodge  in  his  ecstasy  of  love-making,  and  when 
Lodge  took  Helen's  hand  and  it  was  not  withdrawn, 
the  devils  broke  the  bars. 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          311 

"  So,"  cried  Hayward  in  his  soul,  "it's  for  you  — 
to  resign  her  to  your  arms  —  that  I  am  asked  to  die ! 
No!  If  I  may  not  possess  her,  not  you,  you  hound!  " 

A  door  was  wrenched  open  and  Lodge  had  only 
time  to  straighten  himself  before  he  was  knocked 
senseless  by  the  infuriated  husband. 

Hayward  drew  himself  up,  terrible,  before  his  wife, 
and  Helen  in  the  moment  of  recognition  threw  herself 
into  his  arms  with  a  glad  cry. 

"  Oh,  you  have  come  at  last!  "  she  moaned.  "  You 
got  my  letter  at  last  and  have  come  to  me !  " 

"  No.  What  letter?"  asked  Hayward  —  but  as  he 
asked  it  Helen  was  pushing  herself  from  him  as  sav 
agely  as  she  freely  had  thrown  herself  to  him.  Her 
ear  had  caught  the  sound  of  people  approaching. 
Hayward  was  too  confused  to  notice  that.  He  was 
in  consternation  at  the  lightning  change  from  love  to 
aversion,  and  clung  to  her  desperately. 

A  second  later  he  was  lying  prone  upon  the  floor 
with  Evans  Rutledge  standing  above  him,  murder  in 
his  eyes.  He  made  a  wild  attempt  to  rise,  when  an 
other  terrific  blow  from  Rutledge's  arm  sent  him 
again  to  the  floor.  The  hall  was  in  an  uproar,  and 
a  couple  of  palms  were  knocked  aside  as  President 
Phillips  burst  into  the  midst  of  the  melee  in  time  to 
restrain  another  smash  from  Rutledge's  clenched 
fist. 

"  In  the  name  of  God,  what's  the  row?  "  he  asked. 

'  This  nigger  has  assaulted  Miss  Helen,"  said  Rut- 
ledge,  gasping  and  choking  with  fury. 

Mr.  Phillips  trembled  with  a  fearful  passion,  but, 
seeing  Helen  apparently  unhurt,  pulled  himself  down 
to  a  terrible  quiet. 


312          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

"  Get  up,"  he  growled  to  Hayward.  "  Now  "  — 
when  the  footman  was  on  his  feet  —  "  what  have  you 
to  say  for  yourself  ?  " 

Hayward  looked  for  the  hundredth  part  of  a  sec 
ond  in  Helen's  eyes. 

"  I  have  no  excuse,"  he  answered  simply. 

Only  silence  could  greet  such  an  admission.  For 
five  seconds  the  silence  and  the  stillness  were  tortur 
ing. 

As  Mr.  Phillips  moved  to  speak,  Helen  took  two 
quick  steps  to  the  negro's  side.  His  renunciation,  his 
silent,  unhesitating  committal  of  the  issue  —  of  his 
life  —  to  her  decision,  had  touched  her  heart. 

"  I  am  his  wife,"  she  said,  as  she  took  his  hand 
and  turned  to  face  the  circle  of  her  friends. 


I    AM    HIS    \VIFK,'    SHE    SAID." 


CHAPTER    XXXII 

HELEN'S  announcement  was  made  quietly,  without 
any  melodramatic  display. 

In  the  circle  immediately  surrounding  her  and  her 
husband  were  her  father  and  mother,  Elise  and  Evans 
Rutledge,  and  Hal  Lodge  but  just  now  coming  to  his 
senses  and  his  feet.  Behind  these  were  Mrs.  Hazard, 
Captain  Howard,  Senator  Richland,  and  a  gathering 
of  other  excited  guests.  For  a  space  after  Helen's 
speech  the  scene  was  steady  and  fixed  as  for  a  flash 
light  picture,  and  was  photographed  on  Elise's  brain : 
the  incredulity  on  her  father's  face  —  the  horror  on 
that  of  Evans  Rutledge  —  the  perfectly  restrained 
features  of  Howard  —  the  quickly  suppressed  smile 
of  Richland  as  he  glanced  at  Evans  in  lightning  com 
prehension  of  all  the  situation  meant  —  the  ghastly 
pallor  of  Mrs.  Phillips  as  she  sank  voiceless  in  a  dead 
faint  — 

"  No— o !  " 

The  harshly  aspirated  protest  of  Mr.  Phillips  was 
propelled  from  his  lungs  with  a  burst  of  indignant 
anger,  but  drawn  out  at  the  end  into  a  pathetic  quaver 
• —  and  the  scene  dissolved. 

Rutledge  caught  and  lifted  Mrs.  Phillips  whose  col 
lapse  was  unnoticed  by  her  husband  in  his  transfixed 
stare  at  Helen,  and  pushing  back  through  the  crowd 
was  about  to  place  her  upon  a  settle  in  the  hall;  but 

313 


314          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

at  Elise's  bidding  he  carried  her  up  the  broad  stairs 
and  left  her  in  the  care  of  her  daughter  and  Lola 
Hazard.  There  could  be  no  good-bye  said  —  no  time 
for  it;  but  at  the  glance  of  dismissal  Elise  gave  him 
from  her  mother's  bedside  —  at  the  look  of  suffering 
in  her  eyes  —  his  heart  was  like  to  burst. 

Down-stairs  the  confusion  was  painful.  The  guests 
were  hesitating  between  being  accounted  so  ill-bred  as 
to  stare  at  a  family  scene,  and  running  away  from  it 
as  from  a  scourge. 

To  her  father's  unsteady  denial  Helen  repeated  her 
simple  statement:  "  I  am  his  wife." 

"  Since  when  ?  "  Mr.  Phillips,  demanded. 

"  A  year  ago  last  October." 

The  father  looked  about  him  as  for  help. 

"  Come  along  with  me,"  he  said.  "  Both  of  you. 
Good  night,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  added  to  the 
hesitating  guests  —  and  there  was  a  breath  of  relief 
and  a  scattering  for  home. 

With  his  hand  upon  Helen's  arm,  and  Hayward  fol 
lowing,  President  Phillips  led  the  way  to  his  offices. 

"  I  am  not  to  be  disturbed,"  he  told  a  servant  after 
he  had  stopped  at  the  door  and  waved  Helen  and 
Hayward  into  the  room.  "  Ask  Mrs.  Phillips  if  she 
will  please  come  here." 

Entering,  he  motioned  Hayward  to  a  chair,  and, 
taking  Helen  with  him,  went  into  the  inner  office  and 
closed  the  door  behind  him. 

"  Now,  my  child,"  he  said,  with  a  break  in  his  voice 
despite  every  effort  to  keep  it  steady,  "  tell  me  all  about 
this,  and  we  —  we'll  find  a  way  out." 

He  patted  her  hand  reassuringly. 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          315 

"  There's  no  way  out,  papa.  I  loved  Hayward,  and 
I  married  him." 

"  No,  no,  child,  not  love.  You  were  infatuated  — 
he  was  a  footman  and  you  are  — 

"  He  was  a  gentleman,"   interrupted  Helen. 

"  In  a  way,  perhaps,  but  uncultured  and  common 

—  how  could  — 

"  He  is  a  Harvard  man,"  Helen  cut  in  again,  "  a 
man  of  intelligence  and  education.  He  is  —  " 

"  But  a  weakling  —  no  genuine  Harvard  man  could 
be  a  menial  —  a  flunkey  —  " 

"  He's  not  a  weakling,  papa.  He  stooped  to  the 
service  for  love  of  me.  He  loved  me  long  before  we 
came  here  —  when  he  was  a  student  at  Harvard.  It 
was  so  romantic,  papa  —  he  saw  me  first  at  a  football 
game  and  he  has  loved  me  from  that  day.  He  was  the 
hero  of  the  game  and  he  has  yet  the  Harvard  pennant 
I  gave  him  — •  and,  oh,  he's  a  greater  hero  than  that, 
papa  —  he  was  a  soldier  and  he  was  the  trooper  that 

—  wait  a  moment."     Helen  ran  to  the  door. 

"  Here,  Hayward,  give  me  the  knife,"  she  called ; 
and  she  came  running  back,  holding  it  out  to  her 
father. 

"  The  knife  that  the  trooper  stole!  "  she  said,  with 
a  pitiful  little  attempt  at  gayety  in  her  voice  and  face. 

"  What's  that?  "  her  father  asked  harshly. 

"  Why,  papa,  you  surely  don't  forget  the  knife  I 
gave  you  on  your  birthday?  The  one  that  was  taken 
by  the  trooper  who  rescued  you  at  Valencia?" 

The  light  of  understanding  came  to  her  father's 
eyes. 

"Well,  Hayward  was  the  man,  papa!  He  it  was 
who  saved  your  life  to  us  —  oh,  how  I  have  loved  him 


316          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

for  that !  Just  think,  daddy  dear,  how  often  you  have 
told  me  what  a  heroic  thing  it  was  —  and  for  such  a 
long  time  I  have  known  it  was  Hayward  and  wanted 
so  to  tell  you,  but  I  couldn't." 

"  Why  couldn't  you?  "  demanded  her  father. 

"  Well,  I  found  it  out  by  accident  when  he  caughl 
me  off  my  falling  horse  —  there  it  is  again,  papa  - 
he  saved  my  life  as  well  as  yours  —  it  was  just  the 
grandest  thing  the  way  he  did  it !  —  no  wonder  I  have 
loved  and  married  him  —  he's  the  sort  that  can  take 
care  of  a  woman  —  enough  different  from  Bobb} 
Scott,  who  couldn't  stay  in  his  own  saddle !  " 

"  But  Mr.  Scott  is  of  an  excellent  family  —  distin 
guished  for  generations  —  while  Hayward  is  a  no 
body  —  a  —  a  nothing  —  no  family  and  no  recognized 
personal  distinction  or  merit  of  his  own  —  the  com 
monest  circus  clown  can  ride  a  horse,  my  child." 

"  But  he  is  personally  distinguished,  papa;  and  yot 
have  approved  his  merit  by  making  him  a  lieutenanl 
of  cavalry." 

"  When  ?    How  ?  "  the  father  asked. 

"  He  is  John  H.  Graham,  papa  —  John  Hayward 
Graham;  and  there  can  be  no  denying  his  fitness  or 
ability,  for  you  have  certified  to  both." 

Mr.  Phillips  saw  he  was  estopped  on  that  line; 
but  it  only  made  him  angry  and  stirred  his  fighting 
blood. 

"  That's  the  reason,"  Helen  continued,  "  that  Hay- 
ward  wouldn't  let  me  tell  you  who  he  was  or  any 
thing  about  his  service  to  you.  He  wanted  to  obtain 
his  commission  absolutely  on  his  merit  and  without 
appealing  to  your  gratitude  —  wasn't  it  noble  of 
him?"  " 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          317 

A  grunt  was  all  the  answer  Helen  got  to  her  ques 
tion. 

"But  his  people,  who  are  they?  What  sort  of  a 
family  have  you  married  into  ?  Do  you  know  ?  "  Mr. 
Phillips  demanded  sharply. 

"  He  lives  with  his  mother  —  his  father  is  dead  — 
oh,  I  wish  you  could  hear  him  tell  about  his  father 
and  mother,  and  his  grandfather  —  it's  just  beautiful. 
I  don't  know  whether  he  has  any  other  relatives,  — 
but  that  doesn't  make  any  difference.  I  am  not  mar 
ried  to  them,  papa,  and  he's  not  responsible  for  his 
people  but  must  be  judged  by  his  own  personal  char 
acter  and  excellence!  " 

In  this  last  speech  of  Helen,  Mr.  Phillips  thought 
he  caught  an  echo  of  something  he  had  heard  himself 
say,  and  he  winced  a  little :  but  it  only  added  a  spark 
more  to  his  anger. 

"  But  he's  so  far  below  you  socially,  Helen.  You 
cannot  be  happy  with  him !  You  must  remember  that 
you  are  the  President's  daughter  and  —  " 

"  And  my  husband,"  interrupted  Helen,  "  is  of  the 
one  order  of  American  nobility  —  a  man!  I've 
thought  about  all  that  —  the  man's  the  thing,  you  said, 
papa  —  and  besides,  an  army  officer  has  no  social 
superiors." 

There  was  no  mere  echo  in  Helen's  defence  now. 
It  was  plain  fighting  her  father  with  his  own  words : 
and  it  irritated  him  beyond  endurance.  His  wrath 
burst  through  and  threw  off  the  shell  of  theories  and 
sentiment  which  he  had  built  up  around  himself  and 
the  man's  real  self  spoke. 

"  But  he's  a  negro,  Helen!  A  negro!  How  could 
you !  " 


318          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

"A  negro,  papa?"  Helen  questioned  in  unmixed 
surprise.  "  What  has  that  to  do  with  it?  He's  the 
finest  looking  man  in  Washington  if  he  is  —  and 
didn't  you  tell  Elise  that  that  was  nothing  more  than 
a  colour  of  skin  ?  —  that  the  man  was  the  thing  ?  - 
that  a  —  that  a  —  negro  must  stand  or  fall  upon  his 
own  merit  and  not  upon  his  colour  or  caste?  —  and 
did  you  not  say  to  Mr.  Mackenzie  that  colour  has 
nothing  to  do  with  a  man's  acceptability  in  your 
house  ?  —  and  that  — 

"  Oh,  my  God !  yes,  my  child,  but  I  did  not  mea — 
you  are  too  young,  too  young  to  be  married,  my  child, 
—  too  young  and  too  —  yes,  too  young,  and  we  must 
annul  this  marriage  —  yes,  we  must  annul  it,  we  must 
annul  it  —  we  can  annul  it  without  trouble,  don't 
worry  about  it,  child,  don't  worry  —  we  can  annul  it, 
and  —  for  you  are  too  young,  my  little  girl,  my  little 
girl,  my  little  girl !  " 

At  sight  of  her  father's  tears,  and  the  trembling 
that  shook  him  as  he  sank  down  in  a  chair,  Helen's 
combative  attitude  began  to  melt  and  her  eyes  to  fill. 

"  Yes,  little  girl,  don't  worry,"  he  said,  drawing  her 
tenderly  down  within  his  arms,  "  don't  worry,  and  we 
will  have  it  annulled  in  short  order." 

"  It's  too  late,  papa,"  she  spoke  against  his  shoulder. 

"  No,  no,  precious  heart,  it's  not  too  late  —  we  can 
have  it  annulled  —  don't  cry,  and  don't  worry,  we  can 
have  it  annulled." 

"  But,  papa,"  she  said  again  as  she  pushed  herself 
back  so  that  he  looked  her  full  in  the  face,  "  it's  too 
late,  I  tell  you !  It's  —  too  —  late !  "  -  and  with  an 
outburst  of  weeping  she  curled  herself  up  against 
him. 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          319 

With  a  dry  sob  of  comprehension  her  father  gath 
ered  her  close  to  his  heart. 

For  a  long  time  after  he  heard  the  voices  cease  Hay- 
ward  Graham  waited  in  Mr.  Phillips'  outer  office  to 
learn  his  fate.  He  had  caught  some  of  the  excited 
discussion  —  enough  to  be  convinced  of  his  father-in- 
law's  opposition ;  but  he  could  not  be  sure  of  the 
details.  A  servant  had  come  in  to  say  that  Mrs.  Phil 
lips  could  not  come  to  the  office,  and  had  knocked 
softly  on  the  inner  door  several  times  while  the  dis 
cussion  was  at  its  warmest.  Failing  to  get  an  answer, 
he  had  left  his  message  with  Hayward  and  retired. 
When  the  voices  were  quiet  and  the  inner  room  be 
came  silent  Hayward  was  on  the  qui  vive  for  develop 
ments;  and  stood  facing  the  door  in  a  fever  of  ex 
pectation.  .  .  .  His  fever,  however,  had  time  to  burn 
itself  out.  ...  In  that  long  silence  President  Phillips 
fought  his  greatest  battle.  .  .  .  The  issue  was  pre 
destined,  of  course.  In  his  heart  there  was  no  passion 
at  all  comparable  to  his  love  for  Helen,  and  that  love 
won  over  all  obstacles.  .  .  .  He  saw  clearly  in  what 
measure  he  was  responsible  for  her  undoing;  and  he 
came  squarely  to  the  mark  with  a  courage  that  would 
face  all  odds  for  his  little  girl  —  that  would  face  a 
frowning  world,  a  laughing,  a  mocking  world  —  that 
would  face  his  own  soul  even  to  the  death  —  that  her 
gentle  heart  might  not  be  troubled.  .  .  .  He  held  her 
while  her  sobs  shook  themselves  out,  and  then  on  and 
on  he  held  her,  close  and  warm,  as  if  he  would  never 
again  let  her  out  of  his  sheltering  arms,  —  while  he 
gazed  over  her  bowed  head  into  the  dying  fire,  and 
fixed  and  fortified  his  resolution. 


320          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

At  last  Graham  summoned  courage  to  knock  upon 
the  door.  President  Phillips  started  as  from  a  reverie. 

"  Come  in,"  he  said,  rising-  unsteadily  and  placing 
Helen  gently  on  her  feet,  his  arm  still  about  her. 

"  Why,  certainly,  Hayward,  come  in,"  —  and  then 
he  added  after  a  short  pause :  "  Helen  has  told  me  all 
about  it,  and,  while  I  can't  approve  of  the  clandestine 
marriage,  I  shall  do  what  I  can  to  make  my  little  girl 
happy  —  yes,  I'll  do  what  I  can  to  make  her  happy. 
.  .  .  And  since  this  has  been  such  an  —  unusual  — 
evening  I'll  ask  you  to  go  now  and  come  back  to-mor 
row  morning." 

Hayward  delivered  the  belated  message  from  Mrs. 
Phillips,  stood  for  a  moment  uncertain  whether  Helen 
would  speak  to  him,  and  then  turned  to  go. 

"  And  do  not  wear  your  livery  in  the  morning,  Hay- 
ward,"  said  Mr.  Phillips. 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  said  Hayward,  as  he  withdrew. 


CHAPTER    XXXIII 

WHEN  President  Phillips  came  out  of  his  office 
after  dismissing  Hayward,  he  found  a  score  of  re 
porters  and  newspaper  correspondents  fighting  for 
places  at  the  great  front  door.  They  were  awaiting 
with  what  patience  they  could  Mr.  Phillips'  pleasure 
in  giving  to  the  public  an  authoritative  statement  of 
his  daughter's  marriage. 

The  President,  after  he  had  obtained  from  Helen 
the  details  of  time  and  place,  and  other  items  of  in 
terest,  gave  the  press  men  the  story.  He  customarily 
had  his  secretary  to  make  statements  to  the  news 
paper  people,  but  he  chose  to  do  this  for  himself:  in 
his  infinite  loyalty  to  his  little  girl  he  was  taking  the 
situation  by  the  horns.  There  was  no  elation  in  his 
manner,  but  there  certainly  was  nothing  to  indicate 
his  slightest  objection  to  Helen's  marriage,  nor  to 
Haywrard  Graham  as  his  son-in-law.  He  gave  a  short 
sketch  of  that  young  man's  life  and  excellences.  He 
stated  that  he  had  not  known  Graham  was  either  his 
footman  or  his  daughter's  husband  when  he  had  nom 
inated  him  for  a  lieutenancy  in-  the  cavalry.  He  did 
not  state  that  Graham  had  carried  him  off  the  battle 
field  at  Valencia. 

When  he  had  finished  with  the  men  of  the  pencil 
Mr.  Phillips  went  back  to  his  office  for  Helen,  and 
they  sought  the  mother's  room  together.  With  an- 

821 


322          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

other  flood  of  tears  Helen  dropped  on  her  knees  by  her 
mother's  bed. 

This  scene  was  hardly  less  a  trial  for  the  father  than 
had  been  the  travail  of  his  own  soul.  Here  also  must 
he  win  if  he  would  save  his  child's  happiness :  and 
so,  amid  the  tears  and  the  sobs  of  the  mother  and 
daughters,  and  with  misgivings  and  dread  in  his 
own  heart,  at  first  unflinchingly,  then  more  zealously, 
and  at  last  of  necessity  reserving  nothing,  he  excused, 
and  upheld,  and  vindicated,  Helen. 

Mrs.  Phillips  was  too  heart-broken  to  utter  a  word 
in  opposition  or  condemnation,  and  Elise  did  not  open 
her  lips  to  speak.  It  was  against  accusing  silence, 
therefore,  and  upbraiding  tears,  that  the  father  made 
his  desperate  defence.  .  .  .  Such  a  debate  can  never 
be  brought  to  any  real  finish ;  and  it  was  at  last  only 
in  exhaustion,  Helen  of  nerves,  her  father  of  words, 
and  Elise  and  her  mother  of  lamentation,  that  the  dis 
tressed  family  found  peace  —  enough  at  least  to  per 
mit  of  dispersal  to  their  rooms  for  the  night. 

Elise  was  bowed  down  in  grief  for  Helen,  and  for 
Helen  she  wept  upon  her  pillow  till  the  fountain  of 
tears  was  dry:  but  even  then  there  was  no  sleep  for 
her.  Her  mind  was  painfully  alive  to  her  own  per 
sonal  problems,  and  her  brain  was  awake  the  night 
long  although  weariness  held  her  scalded  eyelids 
down.  The  incident  of  the  evening,  like  an  electric 
storm,  had  clarified  the  haze  of  uncertainty  for  her 
heart  —  but  only  to  plunge  it  into  a  more  intense 
perplexity. 

No  longer  unchoosing,  her  heart  had  spoken  its 
choice.  It  were  better  had  it  never  spoken  at  all ;  but 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          323 

there  could  be  no  mistaking  its  decree  —  she  loved 
Evans  Rutledge.  As  she  had  looked  upon  the  three 
men  who  loved  her  in  that  brief  time  when  Helen  pro 
claimed  her  husband,  she  had  known:  and  she  had 
known  that  not  for  her  was  the  man  who  in  the  fleet 
est  moment  could  smile  while  her  heart  was  breaking; 
nor  for  her  that  other,  who,  with  his  alien  point  of 
view,  was  untouched  with  her  distress,  and  who  with 
his  perfect  breeding  —  she  resented  it  —  could  be  so 
contained,  so  unmoved,  in  a  situation  which  brought 
anguish  to  her.  In  the  throes  of  that  anguish  her  soul 
had  turned,  unerring,  to  its  affinity  in  suffering,  to  the 
heart  that  understood  and  wept,  not  in  a  ready  sym 
pathy  for  her  pain,  but  in  the  pains  of  a  common 
grief. 

In  such  manner  Elise  accounted  for  the  reading  of 
her  heart's  message.  She  believed  that  it  had  been 
undecipherable,  confused,  until  that  evening.  Yet  in 
all  her  distress  then,  and  in  the  heartaches  afterward 
resulting  from  its  choosing,  she  was  strangely  happy 
because  her  heart  had  been  true  to  the  fancy  of  its 
earlier  years,  had  been  faithful  to  its  first  girlish  in 
clination  to  love,  had  not  misled  her,  had  not  been 
fickle  in  any  degree,  or  false.  She  told  herself  with 
a  tremor  of  rapturous,  prideful  humility  that  one  man 
had  been  the  master  of  her  love  from  the  beginning. 

Thinking  on  it  as  she  lay  unsleeping  through  the 
night,  she  more  than  once  forgot  her  tears  and  was 
lost  in  the  transport  of  loving.  She  petted  and  ca 
ressed  her  heart  for  its  constancy.  She  made  excuses 
for  its  indecision  in  that  long  time  when  the  man's 
love  had  seemed  unworthy.  She  murmured  tender 


324          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

things  to  it  because  it  had  prevailed,  even  though  with 
a  hesitating  loyalty,  against  her  head's  capricious  dis 
approval. 

In  her  wanderings  back  and  forth  through  the 
desert  of  her  miseries  on  that  night,  she  straggled  back 
many  times  to  this  oasis  of  her  love  and  stopped  to 
soothe  her  troubled  heart  with  its  upspringing  fresh 
nesses.  .  .  .  And  yet  a  wildness  of  perplexity  was  set 
about  her,  and  she  could  not  find  a  way  out.  She 
knew  that  Rutledge  loved  her  —  had  loved  her  from 
the  time  he  declared  it  on  the  flood-beaten  rock  in  the 
St.  Lawrence  till  the  moment  of  his  tender  unspoken 
good-night  three  hours  ago.  That  his  love  could  not 
be  shaken  by  any  act  not  her  own,  she  verily  believed. 
But  would  he  have  loved  her?  —  would  he  have  dared 
to  love  her?  —  could  he,  with  his  blood-deep,  im 
mutable  ideas,  could  he  have  loved  her  ?  —  if  he  had 
known  that  his  love  would  bring  him  to  this  unspeak 
able  extremity,  to  this  heart-breaking  dilemma,  where 
he  must  be  traitor  to  himself  and  to  her  —  or  become 
brother-in-law  to  a  negro? 

Yes,  he  would  have  loved  her  —  her  of  all  women 
—  despite  the  slings  and  arrows  of  the  most  out 
rageous  fortune,  her  heart  told  her:  but,  with  pre 
science  of  such  calamity,  would  he  have  spoken  his 
love  ?  —  would  he  have  asked  for  that  interview  for 
to-morrow  evening  that  he  might  tell  it  to  her  again? 
Was  he  not  even  now  regretting  that  appointment? 
Was  he  not  even  now  pitying  his  love  for  her?  She 
must  know.  But  how  could  she  know?  By  what 
means  could  she  learn  the  truth?  .  .  .  Way  there  was 
none:  and  yet  she  must  know.  Doubt,  uncertainty, 
here  would  be  unendurable  —  and  implacable,  for  she 


325 

could  no  longer  find  peace  in  indifference.  She  loved 
Evans  Rutledge,  and  her  love  would  fight,  was  fight 
ing,  desperately  for  its  own.  .  .  .  But  again,  her  own 
must  be  worthy,  without  compulsion,  or  she  would 
repudiate  it.  Her  heart's  tenderness,  virgin,  single, 
measureless,  she  held  too  precious  to  barter  for  a  love, 
withal  sincere  and  beautiful,  which  were  weighted 
with  a  minim  of  regret  or  limitation.  Rather  would 
she  crush  back  its  fragrance  eternally  in  her  own 
bosom,  than  dishonour  it  by  exchange  for  less  than 
the  highest.  .  .  .  Yes,  she  must  know.  .  .  .  And  she 
could  not  know.  .  .  .  And  the  morning  came,  bring 
ing  no  relief  for  heart  or  brain.  .  .  . 

Mr.  Phillips  was  at  some  pains  to  intimate  to  his 
wife  and  Elise  what  he  thought  a  proper  pride  de 
manded  in  the  way  of  the  "  front  "  they  should  show 
to  the  public.  Queer  that  he  should  have  thought  it 
necessary :  but,  unhappy  man,  he  spoke  out  of  his 
fears  for  his  own  steadiness.  Elise,  at  least,  had  no 
need  for  his  admonitions.  Her  pride  was  the  pride  of 
youth :  the  pride  which  finds  all  sufficiency  in  itself, 
and  needs  not  the  prop  of  outward  circumstance  which 
age  requires  to  hold  its  chin  in  air. 

It  was  this  pride  which  gave  Elise  some  hesitation 
in  deciding  what  she  should  do  with  her  promise  to 
see  Rutledge  that  evening.  Pride  said :  "  Meet  him 
as  if  nothing  has  happened  to  disturb  the  serenity  of 
your  life.  Do  not  show  —  to  him,  of  all  men  — 
chagrin  at  this  episode  en  famille."  But  pride  said : 
"  No !  Recall  that  engagement.  Do  not  appear  to 
hold  him  by  so  much  as  a  hair.  His  love  must  be  un- 
distrained!  " 

She  wavered  between  these  conflicting  demands  of 


326          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

a  consistent  self-respect  until  the  middle  afternoon. 
Then  the  pride  of  her  love  overmastered  the  pride  in 
her  pride :  and  she  wrote  Rutledge  a  short  note. 

"  MY  DEAR  MR.  RUTLEDGE  :  —  I  find  it  necessary  to 
change  my  plans  for  this  evening.  This  will  prevent 
my  seeing  you  at  Mrs.  Hazard's  as  I  promised.  I 
am  very  sorry. 

"  Sincerely, 

"  ELISE  PHILLIPS." 

This  was  her  afternoon  at  home ;  and  after  having 
dispatched  the  message  to  Rutledge  Elise  gave  her 
mind  over  as  far  as  might  be  to  receiving  her  callers. 
They  were  more  numerous  than  usual,  despite  many 
notable  absences,  and  before  they  fairly  well  had  be 
gun  to  crowd  in  she  realized  that  she  was  on  parade. 
Oh,  the  duplicity  of  women !  How  they  chirruped 
and  chattered  about  every  imaginable  thing  under 
heaven,  while  they  listened  and  looked  for  only  one 
thing :  to  find  out  what  Helen's  family  really  thought 
of  her  marriage. 

This  was  not  Mrs.  Phillips'  afternoon,  nor  Helen's, 
and  they  did  not  appear  —  to  have  done  so  would 
have  been  to  overdo  composure :  and  so  it  was  that 
Elise  alone  fenced  with  the  dear,  dear  procession  of 
sensation  hunters  who  passed  in  and  out  of  her  doors. 
The  women  came  in  such  flocks  that  she  really  did  not 
have  time  to  be  embarrassed,  for  the  sympathetic 
creatures  who  showed  a  disposition  to  sidle  up  close 
to  her  and  begin  with  low-voiced  confidences  covert 
attacks  upon  her  reserve  were  quite  regularly  bowled 
over  by  their  oncoming  followers  before  they  could 


327 

get  their  sly  little  schemes  of  investigation  well  going. 
It  became  fascinating  to  her  to  watch  them  defeat 
each  other's  plans,  and  she  was  somewhat  regretful 
when  they  stopped  coming.  They  stopped  quite  sud 
denly,  for  the  reason  that,  in  eagerness  to  see  for  her 
self,  every  daughter  of  Eve  among  them  had  made 
the  White  House  the  first  stopping-place  in  her  round 
of  visits  for  the  afternoon. 

When  the  women  were  all  come  and  gone,  save  two 
who  evidently  were  trying  to  sit  each  other  out,  Cap 
tain  Howard  was  announced.  Elise  was  unfeignedly 
glad  to  see  him  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  two  contest 
ing  ladies  departed  and  left  the  Englishman  and  the 
girl  together. 

Captain  Howard's  coming  was  very  refreshing,  and 
Elise  was  grateful.  He  was  the  only  person  she  had 
seen  that  day  who  did  not  seem  to  be  conscious  of  the 
electric  condition  of  the  atmosphere,  and  she  sat  down 
to  talk  to  him  with  a  feeling  of  genuine  relief  and 
pleasure.  His  conversation  began  easily  and  uncon- 
strainedly  and  ran  along  the  usual  lines  with  all  free 
dom.  As  chance  demanded  he  spoke  of  Helen  sev 
eral  times  in  connection  with  one  small  matter  and 
another,  and  his  manner  of  doing  it  was  positively 
restful. 

Elise  felt  so  comfortable  sitting  there  talking  to 
him  that  for  the  first  time  she  was  impressed  to  think 
that  it  might  be  a  nice  thing  to  have  him  always  to 
come  and  sit  beside  her  and  make  her  forget  that 
things  went  wrong.  The  unfluttered  ease  and  peace- 
fulness  of  his  manner  and  his  words  appealed  very 
strongly  to  her  distressed  heart,  and  it  warmed  toward 
him  in  simple  gratefulness. 


328  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

Captain  Howard  was  not  without  knowledge  of 
the  tense  situation  created  by  the  announcement  of 
Helen  Phillips'  marriage.  He  read  the  newspapers 
and  could  not  but  know  that  a  tremendous  sensation 
was  a-blow.  He  was  himself  excited  by  the  affair  — • 
in  a  steady-going  fashion.  It  was  as  if  a  princess  of 
the  blood  had  eloped  and  married  a  —  say  a  trades 
man  —  or,  maybe,  a  gentleman  —  of  course  it  was 
sensational. 

In  his  amorous  state  of  mind,  however,  the  captain 
thought  kindly  of  the  wealth  of  love  which  had  in 
spired  the  young  woman  with  such  a  sublime  con 
tempt  for  rank  —  for  that  very  real  and  very  puissant 
divinity,  Rank.  He  also  had  shaken  himself  suf 
ficiently  free  from  the  shackles  of  provincialism  to  be 
able  to  recognize  the  effect  of  democratic  ideas  in 
making  possible  and  permissible  such  an  event.  Af 
fairs  of  this  sort  could  not  be  entirely  unlocked  for  in 
a  genuinely  democratic  society;  and,  since  the  Presi 
dent  acquiesced  in  his  daughter's  choice  and  had  no 
regrets,  there  was  no  more  to  be  said.  Altogether 
Captain  Howard  viewed  the  matter  very  calmly  and 
philosophically. 

Having  this  attitude,  he  had  no  hesitation  after  a 
time  in  speaking  directly  of  Helen's  marriage  and  its 
dramatic  announcement.  He  was  a  gentleman  in 
every  instinct,  was  Captain  Howard;  and  there  could 
not  be  the  slightest  offence  taken  by  Elise  at  his  natu 
ral  and  sympathetic  interest  in  what  he  considered  a 
most  romantic  episode.  But  while  one  may  not  be 
offended  or  resentful,  one  may  become  nauseated. 
Captain  Howard  did  not  know  of  the  chill  of  disgust 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          329 

and  horror  that  was  creeping  over  the  girl's  heart, 
nor  notice  the  silence  to  which  she  was  come.  Her 
friendliness  had  been  so  graciously  simple  and  so 
promising  that  his  purpose  had  been  formed  and  he 
was  moving  straight  toward  it,  not  noticing  her 
silence  further  than  to  be  glad  she  was  saying  nothing 
to  create  a  diversion.  .  .  .  Elise  felt  that  if  she  spoke 
she  would  be  very,  very  rude. 

"  —  And  your  America,  Miss  Phillips,  is  assuredly 
the  natural  home  of  Romance.  Here  every  man  is  a 
peer  in  posse,  and  every  woman  a  princess  incognita 
—  and  possibility  keeps  pace  with  imagination.  In 
England  a  footman  is  a  footman  to  the  end  of  his 
life.  Here  the  footman  of  yesterday  is  the  President's 
son-in-law  to-day,  and  may  himself  be  the  ruler  of  his 
people  to-morrow!  Can  life  hold  more  for  a  man? 
The  right  to  aspire  and  the  luck  to  win !  —  and  to  win 
not  only  the  recognition  which  his  personal  merits 
deserve,  but  that  supreme  gift  which  no  man  could 
deserve  :  your  beautiful  sister's  love!  It  is  almost  un 
thinkable  to  an  outsider  like  me,  but  it  is  glorious ! 
Yes,  your  America  is  the  Land  of  Romance !  " 

This  all  sounded  very  well,  but  Elise's  nerves  were 
on  the  ragged  edge.  She  knew  if  she  spoke  it  would 
be  to  cry  out :  "  Yes,  a  rank  outsider !  Oh,  why  can't 
you  drop  that  subject  before  I  scream !  " 

But  Captain  Howard  had  only  finished  the  pre 
liminaries.  He  continued : 

"  And  in  this  land,  Miss  Phillips,  where  a  man  may 
hope  for  anything,  I,  too,  have  taken  courage  to  as 
pire  to  the  highest,  and  — 


330          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

"A  note  for  you,  Miss  Elise;  the  messenger  is 
waiting,"  a  servant  said. 

Excusing  herself  to  Howard,  Elise  read. 

"  MY  DEAR  Miss  PHILLIPS  :  —  If  I  may  not  see  you 
to-night,  may  I  not  see  you  to-morrow  afternoon  —  or 
evening?    Or  day  after  to-morrow?     When? 
"  Sincerely  yours, 

"  EVANS  RUTLEDGE." 

Elise  read  this  over  several  times,  and  gazed  idly 
at  the  paper  for  some  time  longer.  She  quite  forgot 
the  waiting  messenger  and  Captain  Howard.  At  last 
she  thought,  "  On  his  own  head  be  the  result !  "  and 
sat  down  at  a  daintily  carved  desk  to  write. 

"Mv  DEAR  MR.  RUTLEDGE: --The  disturbance  of 
my  programme  for  the  evening  seems  to  have  been 
largely  imaginary.     I  will  be  very  glad  to  see  you  at 
Mrs.  Hazard's  as  at  first  agreed. 
"  Sincerely, 

"  ELISE  PHILLIPS." 

When  she  had  given  her  answer  to  the  servant  Elise 
came  back  to  Captain  Howard  with  a  commonplace 
question  which  made  for  naught  all  his  words  up  to 
that  point.  He  realized  he  must  make  a  new  begin 
ning  if  he  would  tell  her  what  he  wished.  Her  face 
and  mood  had  changed  and  he  saw  that  her  thoughts 
were  elsewhere.  After  several  attempts  to  pull  the 
conversation  back  into  the  old  channel  he  gave  it  up, 
and  retired,  mentally  cursing  his  luck  and  hoping  for 
a  more  auspicious  occasion. 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          331 

Elise  awaited  Rutledge's  coming  at  Lola  Hazard's 
with  some  trepidation.  She  was  uncertain  of  herself. 
She  did  not  know  what  she  would  do.  Being  assured 
of  what  Rutledge  would  say  to  her,  under  ordinary- 
conditions  she  would  have  been  elusive  for  a  season, 
and  finally  have  surrendered  when  overtaken.  But 
with  outside  circumstance  warring  against  her  love, 
she  felt  wildly  impelled  to  let  herself  go,  to  fling  re 
straint  to>  the  winds  and  give  her  heart's  impulse  free 
rein.  Delicious  were  the  tremors  of  anticipation  with 
which  she  waited  to  hear  again  words  of  tenderness 
from  him.  Overflowing  was  her  heart  with  tender 
response.  His  insistence  on  the  meeting  wrhen  she 
had  given  him  an  opportunity  to  avoid  it,  proved  his 
faith  was  fast.  He  had  met  the  supreme  test  for  a 
Southern  white  man :  he  loved  her  more  than  his 
caste.  In  her  own  spirit  she  knew  the  agony  of  his 
trial.  How  sweet  to  surrender  to  such  a  love!  How 
tenderly  she  could  reward  it !  She  longed  to  meet  it 
with  a  frank  and  blissful  confession.  So,  she  was  in 
some  trepidation :  she  was  afraid  she  might  not  be 
properly  reserved. 

Lola  Hazard  came  into  the  sitting-room  and  found 
Elise  sitting  before  the  open  grate. 

"  Honey,"  she  said,  slipping  an  arm  about  the  girl's 
waist,  "  you  look  positively  glorious  to-night.  I  never 
saw  you  half  so  pretty.  What  have  you  done  to  your 
self?  Your  eyes  are  brilliants,  and  your  colour  is  — 
delicious !  " 

"  I  have  been  looking  at  the  fire,"  said  Elise  in 
explanation. 

'  The  pictures  you  saw  must  be  very  pleasing," 
Lola  answered.  "  I  hope  they'll  all  come  true.  But 


332          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

before  we  begin  to  discuss  that,  let  me  tell  you  that 
Mr.  Rutledge  asked  to  call  this  evening,  and  he  may 
be  here  any  moment." 

"  Yes,"  said  Elise,  "  I  know.  He  told  me  last 
night." 

"  Oh,  he  did,  did  he?  Well,  I  promised  him  if  he 
came  early  he  might  have  ten  minutes  for  his  very 
own  to  talk  to  you  to-night.  I  hope  you  - 

"  He  may  have  ten  minutes  —  and  as  many  — 
more  —  as  —  he  —  wants,"  said  Elise  brazenly. 

"Oh,  you  darling!"  Lola  gave  her  a  squeeze. 
"  No  wonder  you  are  beautiful.  It  will  make  any 
woman  heavenly,  and  you  are  such  a  help  to  it!  " 

"  What  is  it?  "  asked  Elise. 

"  Love,"  replied  Mrs.  Hazard. 


CHAPTER    XXXIV 

"  COME  along  back  to  my  own  little  parlour,  Mr. 
Rutledge.  Elise  has  been  singing  for  me,  and  we'll 
not  let  her  stop  for  awhile  yet." 

Elise  was  not  expecting  Rutledge  to  be  brought  in 
there,  and  was  still  sitting  at  the  piano  idly  weaving 
the  chords  into  soft  and  improvised  harmonies  when 
he  spoke.  She  slipped  from  the  stool  quickly,  shook 
hands  with  him  in  an  embarrassed  way,  and  crossed 
the  room  to  sit  down. 

"  Oh,  no,  please  do  not  leave  the  piano,"  Rutledge 
pleaded,  "  now  that  I  have  just  discovered  you  are 
a  musician." 

"  I  am  not  a  musician,  Mr.  Rutledge ;  certainly  not 
for  the  public." 

Rutledge  drew  himself  up  as  if  offended. 

"  I  have  been  called  names  variously  in  my  time, 
Miss  Phillips,  but  never  till  this  moment  '  the  public.' 
1  resent  it  as  an  aspersion  —  I  am  not  '  the  public  '  — 
and  demand  an  abject  apology.  Think  of  all  the  hor 
rible  things  '  the  public  '  is  —  and  are!  " 

"  And  you  a  politician !  "  exclaimed  Elise.  "  You 
would  be  lost  for  ever  if  those  words  were  quoted 
against  you.  Senator  Killam  would  give  a  thousand 
dollars  for  them.  See  —  I  hold  your  fate  in  my 
hands  —  " 

Rutledge's  eyes  leaped  to  hers  with  a  quick  look 
that  confused  her,  and  she  hurried  to  cut  off  his  words. 

333 


334          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

"  —  But  —  oh,  mercy,  I'm  —  I'm  sorry,  and  I  re 
tract  if  it  was  really  as  bad  as  that.  The  public  is 
really  awful,  I  suppose.  I  humbly  apologize  for  the 
aspersion." 

"  Then  bring  forth  fruits  meet  for  repentance  by 
returning  at  once  to  that  piano  stool." 

"  But  I'm  such  a  very  amateurish  singer,  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge.  I  fear  you  will  - 

"  And  I  am  an  amateur  listener,  the  most  humbly 
appreciative,  uncritical  soul  on  earth.  Please  sing. 
Mrs.  Hazard,  if  you  have  any  influence  with  this  ad 
ministration  will  you  not  use  it  here  ?  " 

"  Authority  is  better  than  influence,"  said  Lola. 
"  Elise,  march  to  that  piano." 

Elise  complied  with  an  exaggerated  air  of 
obedience. 

"  Since  I  am  singing  under  orders,  I  will  sing  only 
according  to  orders.  What  shall  it  be  ?  " 

"  Sing  My  Rosary,"  said  Lola.  "  That's  an  old  one 
-  and  the  dearest." 

"  I  commend  to  you  Mrs.  Hazard  for  sentiment, 
Mr.  Rutledge.  Her  honeymoon  is  not  yet  on  the 
wane."  Having  thus  made  Lola  responsible  for  the 
song,  Elise  sang  it  without  further  delay  or  hesita 
tion. 

When  she  had  well  begun  to  sing  Rutledge  recalled 
having  heard  that  song  a  long  time  before.  It  had 
not  impressed  him. 

Elise  sang  simply.  The  fullness  of  her  low  voice 
and  the  clearness  of  her  words,  together  with  the  un 
affected  "  heart "  in  her  singing,  left  her  nothing  to 
be  desired  as  a  singer  of  ballads.  As  Evans 
listened  to  the  song  of  sentiment  of  Mrs.  Hazard's 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          335 

choosing  he  reformed  his  opinion  of  it.  Always 
hitherto  he  had  deemed  sentiment  an  effervescence  — 
refreshing  at  times  as  apollinaris,  but  none  the  less 
an  effervescence  —  and  the  words  of  My  Rosary  a 
fair  type  of  it : 

"  The  hours  I  spent  with  thee,  dear  Heart, 
Are  as  a  string  of  pearls  to  me. 
I  count  them  over,  every  one  apart, 
My  rosary,  my  rosary. 

"  Each  hour  a  pearl,  each  pearl  a  prayer 
To  still  a  heart  in  absence  wrung  — 
I  tell  each  bead  unto  the  end 
And  there  a  cross  is  hung. 

"  Oh  memories  that  bless  and  burn, 
Oh  barren  gain,  and  bitter  loss. 
I  kiss  each  bead,  and  strive  at  last  to  learn 
To  kiss  the  cross,  Sweetheart, 
To  kiss  the  cross." 

But  with  Elise  sitting  there  before  him,  a  vision  of 
loveliness  and  grace  entirely,  appealingly  feminine, 
"  the  lady  "  all  gone,  and  the  girl  —  the  woman  — 
unaffected,  natural,  singing  of  love  with  such  an  air 
of  truth  and  faith  :  sentiment  became  a  very  real  thing 
to  Rutledge.  .  .  .  When  she  finished  he  was  silent. 
To  comment  would  have  been  to  comment  on  Elise, 
and  for  her  every  drop  of  his  blood  was  singing,  "  I 
love  you,  I  love  you."  He  felt  that  if  he  spoke  to  her 
he  must  crush  her  in  his  arms  and  tell  her  so. 

"  That  is  a  song  according  to  my  notion,"  said  Lola. 
"  No  mesalliance  of  sentiment  and  melody  there,  such 
as  you  often  see.  The  words  and  the  music  made  a 


336          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

love-match  —  they  were  born  for  each  other.  Who 
wrote  it,  Elise?" 

"I  forget  —  if  I  ever  knew,"  said  Elise. 

"Woman,  of  course,"  Lola  continued;  and  Rut- 
ledge  interpolated  "Why?" 

"  Because  a  woman  always  mixes  her  religion  with 
her  love  —  if  she  has  any  religion.  A  man  may  have 
one  or  the  other,  or  both,  but  he  never  confuses  them." 

"  Pardon  me  for  taking  issue  with  you,  Mrs.  Haz 
ard  ;  but  with  many  a  man  his  love  for  a  woman  is  his 
only  religion." 

"  Which  means,  Mr.  Rutledge,  that  he  has  love  — 
only  religion." 

As  Rutledge  turned  to  Mrs.  Hazard  Elise  had  the 
first  opportunity  to  look  at  him  unobserved.  She  saw 
that  his  face  had  less  colour  than  usual,  that  his  man 
ner  seemed  to  lack  its  accustomed  spontaneity,  that 
there  was  a  tired  look  about  his  eyes  —  which  pro 
voked  in  her  heart  a  fleeting  maternal  impulse  to  lay 
her  hand  upon  them.  She  watched  him  furtively  and 
became  convinced  that  he  was  in  some  measure  dis 
tressed.  At  first  it  rather  amused  her  and  flattered 
her  vanity  to  think  that  he  was  approaching  her  with 
a  becoming  self-distrust.  As  she  studied  him  longer, 
however,  she  began  to  doubt  the  reason  for  his  con 
straint. 

Lola  Hazard  turned  from  her  discussion  with  Rut- 
ledge  to  give  Elise  another  song,  and  the  young 
woman  at  the  piano  sang  three  or  four  while  Rutledge 
listened  in  appreciative  silence.  Before  the  last  was 
finished  Mrs.  Hazard  was  gone  to  receive  other  guests. 

"  Now  will  you  not  sing  one  of  your  own  choos 
ing?"  asked  Rutledge. 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          337 

"  I  have  no  choice;  "  said  Elise,  "  but  this  occurs  to 
me."  She  sang  him  Tosti's  Good-bye. 

If  she  put  more  of  the  spirit  in  that  song  than  into 
the  others  it  was  not  because  she  felt  its  pertinence 
to  the  present  status  of  her  love.  But  through  the 
wakeful  night,  and  all  the  day  long  till  Rutledge's  note 
had  come,  the  words  of  that  Good-bye  had  come  and 
gone  through  her  brain  with  passionate  realism : 

"  Falling  leaf  and  fading  tree, 
Lines  of  white  on  a  sullen  sea, 
Shadows  rising  on  you  and  me  — " 

her  heart  had  sung  its  "  good-bye  for  ever  "  with  all 
the  smothered  passion  of  renunciation.  So,  in  the 
very  moment  of  blissful  waiting  for  the  telling  of  his 
love,  she  could  sing  to  Rutledge  with  all  the  wildness 
of  farewell  which  so  short  a  time  since  had  wrung  her 
spirit. 

She  struck  the  last  chord  softly,  and,  after  holding 
down  the  keys  till  the  strings  were  dumb,  dropped  her 
hands  in  her  lap.  She  did  not  look  up,  but  she  knew 
that  Rutledge's  gaze  was  upon  her.  She  waited  for 
a  space  unspeaking,  without  lifting  her  eyes  —  and 
realized  that  she  had  waited  too  long.  .  .  .  The 
silence  was  eloquent ;  and  with  every  moment  became 
more  significant.  She  tried  to  look  up,  but  could  not. 
She  knew  that  the  situation  had  gotten  beyond  her  in 
that  careless  ten  seconds,  and  that  if  she  looked  up  now 
she  was  lost.  .  .  .  She  sat  as  if  under  a  spell  —  and 
waited  for  Rutledge  to  move  or  to  speak.  .  .  .  After 
an  age  he  was  coming  toward  her.  .  .  .  And  he  was 
so  very  slow  in  coming.  Her  heart  was  thumping 


338          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

suffocatingly,  her  breathing  in  suspense.  .  .  .  He  did 
not  speak  as  he  came  to  her.  .  .  .  She  felt  he  was 
very  near.  .  .  .  Still  unspeaking  —  was  he  going  to 
take  her  in  his  arms?  .  .  .  Her  head  drooped  lower 
over  the  keyboard.  .  .  . 

Oh,  why  did  he  not  take  her  in  his  arms. 

"  Elise,  I  love  you.    I've  always  loved  you." 

Elise's  eyes  were  upon  the  idle  hands  in  her  lap; 
and  her  heart  had  stopped  to  listen.  Rutledge's  sen 
tences  were  broken  and  jerky.  She  had  never  heard 
him  speak  in  that  fashion. 

"  I've  loved  you  always,  Elise,  and  once  I  was  rash 
enough  to  think  —  you  loved  me.  My  presumption 
was  fitly  punished.  .  .  .  Now  I  have  only  —  hope. 
In  the  last  few  months  you  —  have  been  so  —  gra 
cious  that  —  I  have  been  led  to  think  you  —  wait, 
wait  till  I  have  done  —  so  gracious  that  I  have  been 
led  to  think  —  not  that  you  love  me,  but  at  least  that 
I  —  do  not  excite  your  antipathy  —  as  for  a  long  time 
it  seemed.  ...  So  now  I  have  only  hope  —  but  such 
a  hope,  Elise  —  a  hope  that  is  —  beyond  words,  for 
my  love  is  such.  My  love  is  —  I  love  you,  Elise  —  I 
love  you  as  —  as  my  father  loved  my  mother." 

Elise  slowly  raised  her  eyes  to  his.  There  was  no 
smile  upon  her  face,  but  as  she  turned  it  to  him  it 
was  ineffably  sweet,  and  a  smile  was  in  her  heart. 
But  she  was  startled  by  his  look.  His  was  not  the 
face  of  a  lover,  whether  triumphant,  despondent, 
hopeful  or  militant.  She  did  not  know  that  he  had 
not  been  able  to  banish  his  mother  from  his  thought 
for  a  waking  moment  since  he  parted  with  her  at  her 
mother's  bed-side  the  night  before. 

"  Will  you  —  be  my  wife,  Elise?  " 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  339 

Never  before  in  all  the  world  was  that  question 
asked  in  such  a  voice.  Its  tone  like  a  dagger  of  ice 
touched  the  girl's  heart  with  a  deadly  chill.  She 
looked  steadily  and  long  into  his  eyes.  At  last  with 
a  little  shiver  she  murmured  inaudibly  "  noblesse 
oblige"  —and  answered  his  question: 

"  No,  Mr.  Rutledge,  I  will  not  be  your  wife." 

Her  words  were  as  cold  as  her  heart,  and  her  self- 
possession  as  cold  as  either.  She  was  surprised  that 
her  answer  did  not  bring  the  faintest  shadow  of  relief 
to  Rutledge's  drawn  face  —  rather  a  greater  distress. 
A  tingle  of  fire  shot  through  her  bosom.  (It  was  not 
too  late  —  oh  why  did  he  not  take  her  in  his  arms.) 

"  No,  I  will  not  be  your  wife,"  she  repeated  slowly. 
(It  was  not  yet  too  late  —  oh  why  — )  "  I  am  deeply 
sensible  of  the  honour  you  — 

"  Stop !  Don't  say  that !  In  God's  name  don't  say 
that !  Don't  add  mockery  to  — 

"Mr.  Rutledge!" 

For  the  moment  Rutledge  forgot  that  there  was 
any  person  in  the  world  other  than  Elise  and  himself. 

'  You  have  mocked  me  —  you  have  played  with 
me !  And  - 

"  Will  you  please  go,  Mr.  Rutledge !  " 

"Played  with  me  —  yes  —  as  if  I  were  the  sim 
plest  —  oh  well,  I  have  been  —  and  you  —  you  have 
been  —  you  are  —  an  artist.  Tell  me  that  you  do  not 
love  me,  that  you  have  only  laughed  at  me.  Tell 
me !  "  he  sneered. 

"  Go,  I  say!    Oh,  can't  you  go!  " 

'  Yes,  I'll  go  —  when  you  say  it.  Tell  me !  Do 
you  love  me  —  have  you  ever  loved  me  ?  —  the  veriest 
little  bit?" 


340          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

"  Never.  Not  the  veriest  little  bit,"  she  said,  look 
ing  straight  at  him. 

"  That's  it !  —  the  truth  at  last  —  spoken  like  a  m — 
like  a  lady!"  —  he  bowed  mockingly  at  her  —  "and 
it  proves  you  are  false  —  false,  do  you  understand  ?  — 
unspeakably  false !  And  I  have  loved  you  like  m — 
but  very  well,  it's  better  so  —  perhaps." 

He  turned  to  go;    but  turned  quickly  about. 

"  I'll  kiss  you  once  if  I  swing  for  it !  —  for  what  I 
thought  you  were  "  -  and,  for  a  moment  robbed  by 
anger  of  his  sense  of  proprieties,  with  unpardonable 
roughness  he  crushed  and  kissed  her,  flung  her  vio 
lently  from  him,  and  went,  without  looking  back  at 
her. 

Mrs.  Hazard,  looking  across  the  shoulders  of  a 
knot  of  her  guests,  caught  a  glimpse  of  Rutledge  as  he 
passed  down  the  hall  toward  the  outer  door.  She 
waited  a  minute  or  more  for  him  to  reappear,  and 
when  he  had  not  done  so  she  lost  interest  in  the  people 
and  things  about  her.  At  the  first  possible  moment 
she  sought  Elise,  and  found  her  again  sitting  before 
the  grate.  Lola  came  into  the  room  so  quickly  and 
quietly  that  Elise  had  not  time  to  dissemble,  if  she  had 
wished  to  do  so.  Her  head  was  thrown  back  against 
the  chair  and  both  hands  covered  her  face.  Lola  took 
her  wrists  and  against  some  little  resistance  pulled  her 
hands  away. 

"Elise?"  she  said. 

"  He  does  not  love  me,"  Elise  replied,  defensively, 
without  opening  her  eyes. 

"Didn't  he  tell  you?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  the  answer  came  wearily ;  "  he  told  me ; 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          341 

but  he  told  me  because  he  thought  he  had  given  me 
to  expect  it.  It  was  noblesse  oblige  —  not  love." 

"  Noblesse  fiddlesticks !  I  don't  believe  a  word  of 
it." 

"  Oh  well,"  said  Elise,  looking  up,  "  he  said  it  was 
just  as  well  that  I  refused  him,  there's  no  mistaking 
that." 

"  Oh,  certainly,  after  you  refused  him.  What  did 
you  expect?  " 

"  I  expected  him  to  —  no,  I  didn't.  I  didn't  expect 
anything.  Southern  men  are  so  —  Elise  stopped. 
She  was  about  to  be  unjust  to  Rutledge. 

"  But  come,  let's  go,"  she  said,  rising  from  her 
chair.  "  Are  all  the  people  here?  " 

"  All  except  Senator  Richland,  and  he  never  fails 
me,"  Lola  answered. 

"  I  don't  want  to  see  that  man  to-night,"  said  Elise ; 
and  yet  she  joined  the  other  guests  appearing  nothing 
other  than  her  usual  self  save  for  the  added  brightness 
of  her  eyes,  and  when  Senator  Richland  managed 
finally  to  isolate  her  she  gave  him  quite  the  most  in 
teresting  twenty  minutes  of  his  life. 

When  the  company  was  broken  up,  Elise,  who  was 
stopping  over  night  with  Lola,  avoided  the  customary 
heart  to  heart  talk  by  asking  for  a  pen  and  paper  with 
which  to  write  a  letter.  Mrs.  Hazard  was  consumed 
with  desire  to  hear  all  about  it,  but  she  deferred  her 
inquiries  with  good  grace  as  she  argued  that  a  note 
written  by  Elise  at  such  an  unearthly  hour  could  be 
only  to  Rutledge,  and  must,  therefore,  be  important. 

Elise  shut  herself  in  her  room  and,  pitching  the 
paper  on  the  dressing-table,  sat  down  to  think.  For 
nearly  an  hour  she  sat  without  turning  a  hand  to 


342          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

undress,  trying  to  unravel  the  tangled  skein  of  her 
heart's  affairs  and  see  a  way  out;  but  she  could  not 
get  her  thoughts  to  the  main  issue.  Like  a  fiery  bar 
rier  to  her  thinking  was  the  man's  burning  denuncia 
tion  :  "  You  are  false  —  unspeakably  false !  "  It  had 
rung  in  her  ears  all  the  evening,  and  however  she  tried 
she  could  not  get  away  from  it.  At  last  she  began 
hurriedly  to  undress,  but  before  that  process  was  half 
finished  she  brushed  the  toilet  articles  from  a  corner 
of  the  dressing-table,  drew  up  a  chair,  and  began  to 
write. 

"  Unspeakably  false  ?  No,  no,  Evans,  I  am  not 
false.  I  have  not  been  false :  for  I  love  you.  Such  a 
long  time  I  have  loved  you.  Sometimes  I  have  be 
lieved  you  loved  me,  and  sometimes  I  have  doubted ; 
but  I  do  not  doubt  since  you  told  me  to-night  I  was 
unspeakably  false.  Shame  on  you  to  swear  at  your 
sweetheart  so !  —  and  bless  you  for  saying  it,  for  now 
I  know.  O  why  did  you  not  say  it  earlier  so  that  I 
might  not  have  misread  you?  I  thought  you  felt 
yourself  committed,  and  must  go  on :  that  your  love 
was  dead,  but  honour  held  you.  You  looked  so  dis 
tressed,  dear  heart,  that  I  was  misled.  Forgive  me. 
And  do  not  think  I  do  not  know  your  distress.  I, 
too  —  but  no,  I  must  not.  I  love  you,  I  cannot  do 
more.  In  your  rage  were  you  conscious  that  your 
kiss  fell  upon  my  lips,  dearest  ?  Blind  you  were  when 
you  said  I  was  unspeakably  false.  — " 

She  had  written  rapidly  and  almost  breathlessly 
while  the  impulse  was  warm  within  her  heart.  She 
paused  for  a  moment  —  held  the  pen  poised  as  if  un 
certain  what  to  say  next  —  hesitated  as  to  how  to 
say  it  —  next,  as  to  whether  to  say  it  —  laid  the  pen 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          343 

down  and  picked  up  the  sheet  to  read  what  she  had 
written.  A  blush  came  to  her  cheeks  as  she  read,  and 
at  the  end  she  dropped  her  face  upon  her  arm  on  the 
table  and  suffered  a  revulsion  of  shame  for  her  un- 
maidenliness.  She  tried  hard  to  justify  her  writing 
and  had  all  but  succeeded  when  Rutledge's  words,  "  It 
is  better  so,"  put  all  her  love's  excuses  to  final  rout. 
She  took  the  written  sheet  and  went  across  to  drop 
it  on  the  smoldering-  fire.  But  her  resolution  failed 
her :  she  felt  that  it  would  be  to  burn  her  very  heart 
beats  if  she  gave  these  words  to  the  flames. 

Going  again  to  the  dressing-table  she  laid  the  let 
ter  upon  the  scattered  sheets  of  paper  to  await  a  more 
mature  decision,  and,  hurriedly  disrobing,  went  to 
bed. 

She  found  it  very  hard  to  go  to  sleep.  Even  in  the 
dark  she  could  feel  the  continuing  blushes  in  her 
cheeks  as  she  thought  of  what  she  had  written. 
Finally  in  desperation  she  tumbled  up  and  in  the  dim 
glow  of  the  coals  in  the  grate  crossed  the  room  to 
the  dressing-table,  snatched  up  and  crumpled  in  her 
hand  the  disturbing  letter,  hurriedly  gathered  up  the 
remaining  sheets  of  paper  and  chucked  them  in  the 
table  drawer,  walked  quickly  over  and  dropped  the 
offending  tender  missive  upon  the  coals  and  went  to 
bed  again  in  the  light  of  its  destruction.  A  very  long 
time  after  its  last  gleam  was  dark  and  dead  she  found 
the  sleep  she  sought. 


CHAPTER    XXXV 

IT  is  not  within  the  province  of  this  chronicle  to 
recall  the  sensational  excitement  that  swept  the  nation 
in  those  days  further  than  as  it  affected  the  persons 
mentioned  in  this  narrative.  The  details  of  that  sen 
sation,  the  screams,  the  howls,  the  jeers,  the  predic 
tions,  the  warnings,  the  laments,  the  philosophizings, 
a  newspaper-reading  people  but  too  well  remember. 
They  have  no  proper  place  of  rehearsal  in  this  his 
tory;  and  if  they  had,  a  comprehensive  statement 
which  would  present  the  matter  fairly  to  those  who 
come  after  would  be  too  voluminous  for  the  plan  upon 
which  this  book  is  projected. 

In  that  time  of  tumult  and  of  trial  Mr.  Phillips 
stood  indeed  alone.  If  he  had  braced  himself  firmly 
in  his  determination  to  save  Helen's  happiness  at  all 
cost,  it  was  well :  for  his  trial  was  to  the  uttermost. 
Although  it  would  have  crushed  any  other  than  his 
adamantine  will,  the  storm-beaten  father  withstood, 
as  one  accustomed  to  do  battle,  the  pressure  from 
without :  but  the  rebellion  of  his  own  soul  was  an  un 
relieved  tragedy  that  shook  him  day  and  night  with 
its  terror.  If  his  love  for  Helen  had  not  approached 
the  infinite,  surely  in  the  shrieking  revulsion  of  his 
spirit  he  would  have  cast  her  off.  There  was  a  demand 
from  loud-mouthed  people  the  nation  over  that  he 
should  disown  her  and  drive  her  into  the  outer  dark- 

344 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          345 

ness.  Some  relief  there  was  in  that  demand,  for  it 
only  stirred  the  combative  in  his  nature.  The  yells 
and  hoots  aroused  his  fighting  blood.  But  the  silence, 
the  unspeaking  horror  —  as  if  in  the  presence  of  death 
—  in  which  sober-minded  friend  and  foe  stood  aghast 
and  looked  upon  Helen's  plight,  made  his  courage 
faint  and  tremulous.  It  was  so  awfully  akin  to  the 
sickening  horror  and  silence  in  his  own  heart. 

He  was  indeed  alone;  and  in  that  loneliness  it  was 
given  to  him  to  teach  to  himself  th'e  far  bounds  of  a 
father's  love.  If  he  only  could  have  fought  some 
thing  !  —  or  somebody !  If  he  only  openly  could  have 
snapped  his  fingers  in  the  face  of  public  opinion,  in  the 
teeth  of  his  own  mutinous  soul  —  openly  —  and  told 
them  he  cared  more  for  Helen's  untroubled  laugh  than 
for  them  all,  and  be  damned  to  'em !  If  he  only  could 
have  died !  But  no :  he  must  stand  and  be  still  to  the 
most  thankless  task  that  ever  called  for  a  hidden 
loyalty.  Helen  must  not  know  of  the  travail  of  his 
love,  lest  that  defeat  love's  purpose.  It  was  too  late, 
too  late,  for  knowledge  to  do  other  than  tear  her 
heart-strings  out,  blight  her  young  soul,  and  write 
Remorse  eternally  upon  her  life.  She  must  never 
know  how  much  he  loved  her! 

There  was  no  lack  of  personal  —  and  professing  — 
friends  to  stand  more  or  less  loyally  beside  the  father 
in  that  time,  but  their  support  was  wormwood  to  him. 
From  the  very  few  who  were  altogether  sincere  he 
turned  in  aversion  even  as  he  suffered  their  commenda 
tions,  while  for  the  insincere  and  sycophantic  he  had* 
a  doubly  unspeakable  contempt;  and  that  disgust  and 
scorn  was  agony,  for  that  he  must  swallow  it  and  belie 
his  own  spirit  as  he  listened  to  these  friends. 


346          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

His  private  correspondence  furnished  him  as  little 
comfort.  Some  persons  there  were  —  and  a  few  of 
these  men  and  women  of  repute  —  who  wrote  to  him 
letters  that  should  have  been  consoling-,  for  they 
agreed  very  heartily  with  his  view,  or  what  they 
thought  was  his  view,  and  commended  him  without 
stint  for  his  attitude :  but  never  an  one  spoke  of  the 
sacrificial  love  of  a  father  for  his  daughter  —  justice 
to  the  negro  was  their  theme.  Upon  such  letters  from 
men  —  it  would  have  surprised  the  writers  much  to 
hear  it  —  he  uttered  maledictions  profane;  while,  for 
the  one  woman  who  thus  approved  him,  he  forebore 
profanity,  but  relieved  his  wrath  with  a  volcanic 
"Freak!" 

From  the  time  the  announcement  burst  upon  the 
public  the  President  was  overwhelmed  with  a  flood  of 
newspaper  comment,  most  of  it  harsh,  the  best  of  it 
deprecatingly  sympathetic,  none,  except  that  from 
negro  papers,  uncritical.  Very  shortly  the  clippings 
bureau  which  served  him  was  ordered  to  discontinue 
everything  referring  to  Mrs.  Hayward  Graham's  mar 
riage. 

Mr.  Phillips  did  not  give  that  order  because  he  was 
too  weak  to  stand  criticism.  Far  from  it.  He  was 
schooled  to  conflict,  and  knew  the  rules.  He  had 
never  asked  concession  from  an  opponent  in  all  his  life 
of  struggle,  and  he  would  have  scorned  to  ask  it  then, 
even  with  the  uncounted  odds  against  him.  His  critics 
might  have  shrieked  till  the  crack  o'  doom  and  he 
would  have  listened  without  a  quiver  of  his  resolution. 

But  the  impartial  bureau  had  sent,  among  an  ava 
lanche  of  criticism,  an  appreciation  in  the  form  of  the 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          347 

following  editorial  clipped  from  the  columns  of  The 
Star  of  Zion: 

"  The  dramatic  culmination  of  the  beautiful  ro 
mance  in  which  Miss  Helen  Phillips,  daughter  of  the 
President  of  the  United  States,  proudly  proclaims  her 
self  the  wife  of  Mr.  John  Hay  ward  Graham,  and  the 
graceful  acquiescence  of  the  bride's  distinguished 
father  in  his  beautiful  daughter's  love-match,  is  but 
another  proof  of  the  rapid  coming  of  the  negro  race 
into  its  own  as  the  recognized  equal  of  any  race  of 
men  on  earth.  Mr.  Graham's  career  is  an  inspiration 
to  his  people,  for  it  teaches  the  rising  generation  of 
negro  boys  and  girls  that  they  need  no  longer  live 
Within  the  Veil,  that  in  the  most  enlightened  minds 
there  is  no  longer  a  silly  prejudice  against  colour,  but 
that  if  the  young  negro  will  only  make  the  most  of 
himself  and  his  opportunities  he  will  be  graciously 
received  as  an  equal,  as  a  member,  in  the  proudest 
families  in  this  mighty  nation.  - 

President  Phillips  read  just  that  much  of  that  edi 
torial.  Then  went  the  order  to  shut  off  the  press  clip 
pings. 

It  required  all  the  father's  self-control  to  dissemble 
in  Helen's  presence  and  he  feared  that  he  would  be 
unable  to  keep  the  truth  from  her.  It  wras  fortunate 
for  the  girl  that  her  condition  demanded  seclusion  and 
that  her  removal  from  Washington  took  her  away 
from'  the  danger  of  enlightenment.  At  her  father's  in 
stance  preparations  were  hurried  with  all  speed,  and 
she  and  her  husband  went  to  Hill-Top  for  their  be 
lated  honeymoon  and  a  stay  indefinite.  .  .  . 

Hay\vard  Graham  would  have  been  a  paragon  if  he 


348          THE    CALL   OF    THE    SOUTH 

had  conducted  himself  with  entire  discretion  when 
the  limelight  first  was  turned  upon  him.  The  colour 
of  his  skin  was  not  responsible  for  his  foolish  mis 
takes  in  those  first  days.  Any  footman  so  suddenly 
elevated  to  that  pinnacle  likely  would  have  made  them. 
One  of  his  errors  of  judgment  was  serious.  That  was 
his  continued  offence  against  the  dignity  of  Henry 
Porter.  The  withering  letter  he  had  written  in  an 
swer  to  the  old  man's  apology  was  of  itself  enough  to 
call  up  the  devil  in  old  Henry's  heart ;  but  that  doubt 
less  would  have  been  forgotten  had  Hayward  re 
mained  in  obscurity. 

To  dispute  with  the  President  the  title  to  a  son-in- 
law,  however,  was  a  distinction  too  fascinating  to  the 
negro  magnate.  He  had  already  been  to  Bob  Shaw's 
office  for  a  tentative  discussion  of  the  law  in  his  case 
and  was  just  coming  away  when  he  ran  plump  into 
Hayward  on  the  sidewalk.  A  judicious  condescension 
on  the  young  man's  part  even  then  might  have 
placated  him,  but  instead  an  evil  spirit  called  to  Hay- 
ward's  memory  his  first  meeting  with  Porter,  the  in 
sufferable  affront,  and  his  own  oath  to  even  the  score. 
Too  strong  in  Hayward's  heart  was  the  temptation  to 
"  take  it  out  of  him  for  keeps  "  then  and  there.  At 
the  worst,  though,  he  hardly  did  more  than  any  gen 
tleman  would  do  upon  meeting  another  who  had 
driven  him  from  his  house. 

"  Mr.  Hay—  Mr.  Graham !  "  said  Porter,  hardly 
knowing  himself  whether  he  intended  to  be  polite  or 
other,  but  having  a  general  purpose  to  fetch  the  young 
fellow  up  roundly  for  that  letter. 

"  I  believe  I  don't  know  you,"  said  Hayward,  stop- 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          349 

ping  and  observing  him  coolly  for  two  seconds,  and 
turning  away  to  continue  his  journey  up  the  street. 

Now,  to  those  of  his  race,  Henry  Porter  was  a 
"  figure  "  on  the  streets  of  Washington,  and  Graham 
was  by  that  time  almost  as  well  known  as  the  Presi 
dent  himself.  There  were  but  four  people  who  could 
have  witnessed  the  meeting  of  these  celebrities.  These 
were  three  negroes  of  low  degree  loafing  along  the 
sidewalk  and  a  dago  pushing  a  cart  just  outside  the 
curb. 

At  his  rebuff  Henry  Porter  gave  a  gasp,  swallowed 
it,  and  looked  around  to  see  who  had  seen  him.  The 
"  common  niggers  "  at  his  elbow  snickered,  and  as 
they  passed  on  burst  out  into  loud  guffaws. 

"  Um-huh !  Tried  to  butt  into  the  White  House, 
but  Mister  Graham  he  don't  know  him !  Can't  inter- 
doose  'im !  Too  black !  Law-dee,  didn't  he  th'ow  'im 
down!" 

Henry  Porter  heard  enough  of  this.  He  rapidly 
retraced  his  steps  to  Shaw's  office. 

"  Here,  Mr.  Shaw,  you  can  jist  git  them  papers  out 
this  evenin'.  There's  no  use  waitin'." 

"All  right,  Mr.  Porter,"  said  Shaw,  who  didn't 
favour  the  idea  but  was  too  much  afraid  of  his  client 
to  refuse.  "  But  wouldn't  to-morrow  do  as  well  ? 
We  could  think  it  over  a  little  further." 

"  No,  suh,  Mr.  Shaw.  We  don't  wait  till  no  to- 
morrer.  We  don't  think  about  that  damn  young 
nigger  no  mo'  till  we  take  him  with  the  papers  and  let 
him  think  about  hisself  awhile.  Can't  you  git  'em 
served  on  him  this  evenin'  ?  " 

"  If  he's  to  be  found  in  the  city,"  said  Shaw. 


350          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

"  Oh,  he's  to  be  found  all  right.  I  saw  him  goin' 
up  the  street  jist  awhile  ago.  You  jist  git  them 
papers  out  and  have  'em  served  on  him  this  evenin' 
and  no  mistake  about  it." 

"  All  right,  if  you  say  so,"  Shaw  consented. 

"  Well,  I  say  so  —  and  I  can  pay  the  damage,"  said 
the  irate  client  with  emphasis,  and  stalked  out  of  the 
office,  only  to  stick  his  head  back  into  the  door  with 
the  last  injunction : 

"  This  evenin'  now,  and  no  mistake  about  it !  " 

As  chance  ordained,  Henry  Porter  did  not  go  amiss 
in  his  haste  to  have  the  summons  served  on  Graham. 
It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  and  less  than  four  hours 
before  the  former  footman  and  his  wife  were  sched 
uled  to  leave  the  city  for  Stag  Inlet  that  the  officer 
served  the  paper. 

A  bomb  exploding  under  Hayward's  feet  could  not 
have  been  so  unexpected  by  him.  As  the  officer  read 
the  summons  and  its  import  broke  upon  his  mind  he 
felt,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  physical  weakness  in 
the  presence  of  danger.  It  staggered  him  to  think  of 
possible  results.  He  had  no  feeling  of  guilt :  but  an 
awful  fear. 

President  Phillips  had  passed  out  of  the  White 
House  for  his  regular  constitutional  while  the  process 
was  being  served,  and  recognized  the  officer  by  his 
badge  and  Graham's  excitement  by  the  look  on  his 
face,  but  had  not  stopped  to  inquire  what  the  trouble 
was,  —  for  which  Graham  was  profoundly  thankful, 
as  it  gave  him  time  to  catch  his  breath. 

Think  as  he  would,  no  way  of  escape  could  Graham 
conceive.  Being  virtually  without  money,  he  could 


351 

not  hope  in  four  hours  to  bring-  Henry  Porter  to  terms 
and  avoid  a  publication  of  the  scandal.  Exactly  what 
the  old  man  had  in  mind,  anyway,  was  uncertain,  ex 
cruciatingly  uncertain.  The  precise  nature  of  the  com 
plaint  did  not  appear  from  the  summons.  As  the  suit 
was  based  on  a  lie,  it  well  might  be  any  sort  of  a  lie. 
But  surely,  surely,  he  thought,  no  woman  would 
falsely  speak  disgrace  to  herself.  He  had  had  a  gen 
uine  respect  for  Lily  Porter's  character.  She  had 
been  the  best  of  them  all,  with  the  highest  ideas  and 
the  highest  ideals.  He  would  have  sworn  that  she 
could  not  have  lent  herself  to  a  thing  of  this  sort. 
But  since  she  had  been  willing  to  do  so  at  all,  to  what 
lengths  might  she  not  go?  What  was  the  limit  they 
had  set?  To  what  public  disgrace  were  they  trying 
to  bring  him?  To  what  awful  lie  must  he  make  an 
swer? 

As  he  thought  of  it  the  keen  sense  of  his  peril,  the 
disgrace,  the  loss  of  his  commission,  and  his  helpless 
ness,  became  well-nigh  unbearable.  If  Henry  Porter 
could  only  have  known  the  extremity  of  torture  he 
had  inflicted  in  thus  making  the  young  fellow  "  think 
about  hisself  awhile,"  his  wrath  might  have  been  ap 
peased. 

Hayward  trembled  to  think  of  the  moment  when 
the  public  should  know  of  this  suit,  but  he  quaked  in 
absolute  terror  as  he  thought  of  Mr.  Phillips'  hearing 
it.  And  Helen !  —  what  must  he  do  to  save  her  from 
this  shame?  —  he  gladly  at  the  moment  could  have 
strangled  Old  Henry.  .  .  .  But  heroics  would  do  no 
good.  He  was  helpless,  bound  hand  and  foot.  If  he 
could  be  saved,  if  Helen  was  to  be  saved,  there  was 
but  one  arm  that  had  the  power :  her  father's.  Per- 


352          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

haps,  perhaps,  with  all  his  attributes  of  strength  and 
forcCj  he  might  be  able  to  bring  the  vengeful  negro 
capitalist  to  terms.  Whatever  his  terror  of  Mr.  Phil 
lips,  he  must  tell  him.  .  .  .  And  what  were  done 
must  be  done  quickly. 

"  I  would  like  to  speak  with  you  a  moment,  sir, 
about  a  —  a  matter,"  said  Hayward  to  the  President 
as  soon  as  he  returned  from  his  walk. 

Mr.  Phillips  could  tell  with  half  an  eye  that  it  was 
a  matter  of  some  moment.  He  led  the  way  to  his 
private  office. 

"Well,  what  is  it,  Hayward?    You  look  excited." 

Mr.  Phillips  spoke  very  kindly,  for  he  did  so  with 
studied  purpose.  It  was  necessary  that  he  keep  that 
purpose  continually  and  consciously  before  him.  For 
Hayward  the  footman  he  had  had  quite  a  high  re 
gard  :  as  he  had  for  any  man  or  thing  that  was  ef 
ficient.  For  the  negro  as  his  son-in-law,  he  could  not 
bring  himself  to  consider  him  with  any  toleration,  nor 
did  he  lie  to  his  soul  by  telling  it  he  wished  to.  For 
the  negro  as  a  mate  for  Helen,  every  rebellious,  tor 
tured  nerve  and  fibre  of  the  man  was  an  eternal, 
agonized  protest.  It  was  indeed  very  necessary  that 
he  keep  his  kindly  purpose  always  consciously  before 
him. 

"  What  is  it?  "  he  asked  again. 

"  I  had  a  paper  —  a  summons,  I  believe  they  call  it 
—  served  on  me  this  afternoon,"  Hayward  stumbled 
along  to  say;  and  then  stopped,  uncertain  how  to  go 
at  it. 

"  Well.    And  what's  the  trouble?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  sir,  exactly  what's  the  trouble;   or, 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          353 

rather,  I  would  say  I  didn't  know  there  was  any 
trouble." 

"Then  what's  it  about?  Who  is  it  that's  suing 
you?  What  does  the  summons  say?  " 

"  The  summons  doesn't  say  what  the  trouble  is 
about."  Graham  was  dodging  in  spite  of  himself. 

"But  who  is  the  person  that  is  suing  you?"  Mr. 
Phillips  questioned  again  testily. 

'  The  summons  says  '  Lily  Porter,  by  her  father 
and  next  friend,  Henry  S.  Porter,  against  John 
Hayw—  " 

"  Says  what?    A  WOMAN  ?  " 

President  Phillips  jumped  to  his  feet  and  went  pale 
as  ashes.  Graham,  dry-lipped,  could  only  nod  his 
head  weakly  in  affirmation.  For  five  seconds  Mr. 
Phillips  was  speechless.  Then  words  came  back, 
along  with  a  rush  of  blood  to  his  face  that  looked  to 
burst  it.  So  terrible  was  his  wrath,  the  killing  look 
in  his  eyes,  that  Graham  instinctively  squared  away  to 
defend  himself  from  bodily  injury.  Such  a  torrent, 
such  a  blast,  of  withering,  blistering  profanity,  wild, 
incoherent,  unutterable,  he  never  had  listened  to  in  all 
his  life.  Try  as  he  would  to  interpose  a  word,  an 
explanation,  a  defence,  his  efforts  only  drove  the 
father  to  more  abandoned  fury.  After  a  dozen  fruit 
less  attempts  he  realized  there  was  nothing  to  do  but 
wait  for  the  furor  to  burn  itself  out.  To  the  young 
man,  conscious  of  the  passing  of  precious  time,  it 
seemed  that  his  anger  would  never  cool.  When  the 
President  showed  the  first  signs  of  exhaustion  he  took 
courage  to  speak  again. 

"  I  swear  to  you,  sir,  the  young  woman  has  no 
cause  to  complain  of  me.  I  have  done  her  no  —  " 


354          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

"  Oh  of  course  not,  of  course  not,"  said  Mr.  Phil 
lips  in  the  most  bitingly  sarcastic  tone.  "  Of  course 
not,  of  course  not !  But  who  the  devil  is  she  ?  " 

"  Miss  Lily  Porter,  daughter  of  Henry  S.  Porter  — 
Black  Henry  the  newspapers  sometimes  call  him. 
Perhaps  you  have  heard  —  " 

"  What !  That  nigger  ?  Not  a  nigger  woman ! 
But  of  cour —  oh  my  God,  Helen,  how  can  I  pr — 
but  he  choked  for  a  moment  in  livid  anger  before  he 
writhed  into  another  frenzy,  that  was  as  volcanic,  as 
horrible,  and  as  pitiable  as  it  is  unprintable.  He 
cursed,  he  raved,  he  choked,  he  tore  wildly  at  his 
collar  for  breath. 

It  was  frightful  to  look  upon,  and  if  Graham  had 
feared  for  his  own  safety  in  the  first  outburst,  he 
feared  for  Mr.  Phillips'  life  in  the  last.  It  looked  as 
if  in  the  violence  of  his  wrath  he  would  burst  a  blood 
vessel.  Graham  was  in  mortal  fear  that  he  would  die 
in  his  tracks,  and  tried  desperately  to  reinforce  his 
denial  of  guilt  as  the  only  possible  relief  for  his  father- 
in-law's  dementia,  but  all  his  attempts  only  inflamed 
Mr.  Phillips  the  more.  The  negro  seemed  not  to 
know  that  it  was  not  a  question  of  his  guilt  or  inno 
cence  that  was  tearing  the  father's  vitals  and  threaten 
ing  his  reason,  but  shame  —  insufferable  shame ! 

After  an  age,  it  seemed  to  Graham,  Mr.  Phillips 
became  calmer.  His  son-in-law,  wholly  at  a  loss  what 
to  say  or  do,  started  out  of  the  door  in  search  of  a 
clearer  atmosphere  and  a  chance  to  regain  his  scat 
tered  faculties.  The  President  looked  around  and  saw 
him  beating  a  retreat. 

"  Come  back  here !  "  he  ordered  sharply.  "  We 
can't  leave  this  thing  like  this!  Something  must  be 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          355 

done  with  it  at  once,  or  the  scandal  will  be  all  over  the 
He  trembled  with  the  passion  of  another  out 
burst,  but  controlled  himself  by  a  mighty  effort. 

"  I  swear  to  you  no  scandal  may  rightly  be  laid  at 
my  door,"  said  Graham  with  some  dignity.  The  out 
rageous  injustice  of  the  thing  gave  him  a  little  of  the 
dignity  of  righteousness. 

"  Scandal  doesn't  depend  on  truth  or  falsehood,  so 
we  needn't  discuss  that  now."  Mr.  Phillips  cut  him 
off  short.  "  What  we  must  do  is  to  stop  this  scandal, 
for  scandal  it  will  be  if  it  gets  to  the  public.  Where 
does  this  —  this  Porter  live?  How  far  from  here?" 

"  About  fifteen  minutes  drive,  sir." 

"  Wrell  —  er  — send  Mr.  O'Neill  here  —  in  a 
hurry." 

Graham,  glad  to  get  action  on  himself,  was  out  of 
the  room  and  back  with  the  secret  service  man  in  less 
than  a  minute.  In  that  short  space  the  President  had 
taken  a  grip  on  his  self-control. 

"  Here  O'Neill,  take  Hayward  with  you  to  show 
you  the  house,  and  go  fetch  Henry  Porter  up  here  to 
see  me.  He's  not  to  be  arrested,  mind  you,  but  is  to 
come  to  see  me  at  my  request  at  once,  and  nobody  is 
to  know.  And  he  is  not  to  speak  to  anybody  or  see 
anybody,  not  even  Hayward  here,  before  you  bring 
him  to  me.  So  get  along  and  get  him  here  as  soon 
as  you  can.  No  force,  remember;  but  he  is  to  come 
along,  at  my  request."  .  .  . 

O'Neill  and  Hayward  hurried  out,  and,  finding  a 
street  cab,  lost  no  time  in  getting  to  Henry  Porter's 
house.  On  the  way  Hayward  gave  the  officer  some 
idea  of  the  man  he  was  to  deal  with  and,  bringing  him 
to  the  door,  left  him  to  his  own  devices  and  himself 


356          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

took  a  car  back  home.  When  Old  Henry  came  to  the 
door  O'Neill  told  him  half  a  dozen  lies  in  half  as  many 
minutes,  and  at  the  end  of  the  time  he  had  the  worthy 
coloured  gentleman  safely  in  the  cab  and  on  the  way 
to  the  White  House. 

The  President  was  waiting  for  him,  and  when  the 
two  fathers  were  alone  together  he  went  at  him  with 
a  directness  calculated  to  take  the  negro's  breath. 
Black  Henry  was  much  awed,  in  fact  well-nigh  over 
come  by  the  situation,  and  he  was  hardly  in  condition 
to  make  the  most  of  his  opportunities ;  but  his  native 
shrewdness  did  not  entirely  forsake  him.  In  the 
drive  to  the  White  House  he  had  had  time  to  think 
it  over,  and  he  had  concluded  that  the  President 
wanted  to  see  him  very  much  or  he  would  not  have 
sent  for  him.  He  tried  to  keep  that  in  mind  all  the 
time  the  negotiations  were  pending.  It  helped  in  some 
degree  to  steady  his  shaking  confidence  in  himself. 

"You  are  Henry  S.  Porter,  I  believe?"  There 
was  an  accusing  quality  in  the  voice. 

"  Yes,  suh." 

"  The  father  of  Lily  Porter  who  has  instituted  a 
suit  against  my  —  against  Hayward  Graham?"  The 
tone  was  more  accusing. 

"  Yes,  suh."  Black  Henry  wished  the  suit  hadn't 
been  instituted.  But  he  remembered  again  he  had 
been  sent  for  and  he  braced  up  a  little. 

"Now  what  is  the  nature  of  that  suit?"  The 
President  was  somewhat  in  fear  of  his  own  question, 
for  all  his  bravado  of  manner. 

"  Breach  o'  promise,"  Henry  answered  shortly. 

"Anything  else?" 

"  Nothin'  but  breach  o'   promise  to  my  daughter 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          357 

Lily.  He  was  engaged  to  her  and  married  your 
daughter,  or  was  already  married  to  her,  I  don'  know 
which." 

For  five  seconds  a  murderous  passion  all  but  got 
control  of  Mr.  Phillips'  will.  He  turned  away  and 
closed  his  eyes  tight  till  he  had  subdued  it. 

"  What  evidence  have  you  that  he  was  engaged  to 
your  daughter?  " 

Henry  Porter  knew  he  was  a  fool  to  give  away  his 
case  to  the  opposition,  but  the  President's  eyes  and 
manner  were  too  compelling  for  him. 

"  My  daughter  says  so  and  —  and  I've  seen  enough 
myself,  and  besides  that  he  has  written  letters  to  her. 
I  reckon  we've  got  evidence  enough  all  right." 

"  Well,  I  have  evidence  that  there  is  not  a  word  of 
it  true,  and  I  sent  for  you  to  tell  you  you'd  better  drop 
it.  You'll  find  it  a  profitless  —  more  than  that  —  a 
very  expensive  undertaking." 

The  last  statement  was  unfortunate.  It  struck  fire 
in  Old  Henry's  pet  vanity. 

"  Oh,  I  guess  I  can  stan'  the  expense  all  right,"  he 
rejoined  with  the  oddest  possible  mixture  of  deference 
and  defiance. 

'  You  can,  can  you !  "  said  Mr.  Phillips  sharply,  his 
anger  beginning  to  redden.  "  But  I  tell  you  again 
you  can't  get  a  verdict  from  the  courts  —  no,  sir,  not 
for  a  cent  —  so  what's  the  use?" 

"  I  don't  need  the  money."  .  .  .  Clearly  Mr.  Phil 
lips  had  given  the  purse-proud  old  darkey  the  wrong 
cue. 

'Then  what  the  devil  are  you  after?" 

'  That  young  nig —  young  man  is  mos'  too  sassy. 
He's  got  to  know  his  place." 


358  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

"  His  place!  "  Mr.  Phillips'  face  was  again  twisted 
in  wrath.  But  wrath  could  not  serve  Helen's  cause. 
He  stifled  it. 

"  Yes ;  he  mus'n'  come  flyin'  roun'  my  daughter  for 
fun,  and  then  go  off  when  he  fin's  somebody  mo'  to 
his  notion,  and  th'ow  his  impidence  in  my  face." 

Through  all  his  blinding  anger  Mr.  Phillips  could 
see  clearly  enough  to  realize  that  it  was  indeed  not  a 
matter  of  money,  but  of  insult.  He  was  more  and 
more  inclined  to  believe  Hayward's  statement  that 
there  was  little  or  no  basis  for  the  suit.  But  that  didn't 
help  matters  in  the  least. 

"  Now  look  here,  Porter,"  he  said  in  his  most 
vigorous  and  decided  manner,  "  I  am  convinced  your 
claim  has  no  real  basis  in  fact,  but  is  the  outcome  of 
pique  pure  and  simple.  Nevertheless,  it  must  be  set 
tled  here,  to-night ;  and  I'm  willing  to  see  that  you 
don't  lose  any  money  in  the  way  of  expenses  and 
lawyer's  fees  for  the  procedure  so  far.  To  that  end 
I  will  have  Hay  ward  pay  you  a  thousand  dollars  if 
you  will  withdraw  the  suit  to-night.  What  do  you 
say?" 

"  I  don'  need  the  money,"  said  Porter  in  maddening 
reiteration.  "  Besides  that  I  don'  know  what  my 
lawyer  will  charge."  At  the  mention  of  money,  how 
ever,  the  sharp-dealing  old  negro  felt  a  little  more  at 
ease  and  interested  in  the  discussion. 

"Who  is  your  lawyer?" 

"Mistuh  Shaw  — Mistuh  Robert  Shaw." 

"  Robert  Shaw.  Is  he  the  Shaw  that  wants  that 
special  solicitorship  in  the  treasury  department?  A 
negro  ?  " 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          359 

"Yes,  suh,  a  negro;  but  I  don'  know  about  the 
treasury  department." 

"  Well,  he's  the  man,  I  have  no  doubt  —  Robert 
Shaw,  a  negro  lawyer.  Now  let  me  tell  you.  I  had 
had  some  idea  of  giving  him  the  place  he  asks  for, 
but  I  say  right  now  if  he's  inclined  to  be  a  fool  in  a 
matter  of  this  sort  he's  not  the  man  the  government 
wants.  If  he  gets  his  fee  he  will  be  well  enough  sat 
isfied,  won't  he?  He's  not  the  fool  kind  that  wants  to 
advertise  himself  in  a  sensational  suit,  is  he?" 

"No,  suh,  no,  suh!  Mistuh  Shaw  is  a  ve'y  nice 
young  man,  suh.  He  ain't  no  fool,  suh." 

"  Well,  he  would  be  if  he  disobeyed  your  wishes  and 
mine  in  this  matter.  I  think  I  can  speak  for  him 
myself.  Now  what  do  you  say?  A  thousand  dol 
lars?" 

Involving  Shaw  in  the  affair  was  most  fortunate 
for  Mr.  Phillips.  With  Hayward  out  of  the  running, 
Henry  Porter  now  looked  with  much  assurance  upon 
Shaw  as  a  son-in-law.  That  financial-political  com 
bination  between  himself  and  Shaw  was  again  his 
pet  dream  as  before  Hayward's  interference.  With 
Black  Henry  the  controversy  was  really  settled  and 
he  was  ready  to  compromise.  The  smaller  purpose 
was  lost  in  the  presence  of  the  master  passion.  But 
his  personal  pride  and  cupidity  were  aroused.  If  his 
hoped-for  son-in-law  Shaw  was  going  to  get  both 
honour  and  revenue  out  of  this  thing,  he  himself 
ought  not  to  fall  too  far  behind.  .  .  .  And  again  he 
remembered  that  he  had  been  sent  for. 

"  Of  cou'se  I  don'  need  the  money,"  he  said  once 
more,  "  but  if  money  is  to  settle  it  I  think  five  thou- 


360 

san'  'd  be  little  enough.  We  was  suin'  for  twenty- 
five." 

"  Five  thousand  the  devil !  I'll  not  pay  it.  It's  out 
rageous  !  " 

"  Well,  suh,  I  don't  need  the  m—  " 

"  Ah,  shut  that  up,  for  heaven's  sake !  What's  the 
best  you'll  do?  Speak  out  now  in  a  hurry." 

"  Well,  suh,  five  thousan'  is  mighty  little  considerin' 
the  standin'  of  the  parities.  As  my  lawyer,  Mistuh 
Shaw,  said,  the  standin'  of  the  pahties  calls  for  big 
damages.  My  daughter  and  your  son-in-law  are  up 
in  the  pic — 

"Hold  on!"  said  Mr.  Phillips.  "You  can  stop 
that  argument  right  there.  Will  you  take  five  thou 
sand  and  shut  the  thing  up?" 

"  Well,  suh,  as  I  said,  I  don'  need  — 

"Will  you  take  the  five  thousand?"  The  Presi 
dent's  eyes  had  a  dangerous  blaze  in  them. 

"  Yes,  suh." 

"  That  settles  it.  Now  get  right  out  after  that  law 
yer  of  yours  at  once,  to-night,  and  have  him  withdraw 
those  papers  and  destroy  them  —  or  no,  better  than 
that,  you  bring  them  here  to  me  to-morrow  —  no, 
bring  them  to-night  —  I'll  wait  for  you.  And  hurry, 
will  you  please,  for  I'm  quite  busy  and  must  be  rid  of 
this  as  quickly  as  possible.  I'll  look  for  you  within  an 
hour." 

Mr.  Phillips  could  not  have  been  very  busy,  for  he 
did  nothing  but  walk  the  room  till  Porter  returned. 
And  two  hours  had  passed  before  that  time. 

"  I'm  sorry  to  keep  you  waitin'  so  long,  suh,"  the 
negro  apologized;  "but  me  and  Mistuh  Shaw  had  to 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          361 

hunt  up  the  officer  to  git  the  papers.  It  was  so  late 
when  he  served  'em  he  couldn'  retu'n  'em  to  court  to 
night,  and  he  was  holdin'  'em  over  in  his  pocket  till 
mornin'." 

"  Thank  Heaven  for  that.  Did  you  tell  him  to  keep 
his  mouth  shut?  " 

"  Yes,  suh." 

"'And  will  he  do  it?" 

"  I  think  he  will,  suh.  Mistuh  Shaw  fixed  him. 
He's  a  frien'  of  Mistuh  Shaw." 

"  Well,  he'd  better.  I'll  hold  Shaw  responsible  for 
him.  Let  me  see  the  papers.  .  .  .  Yes,  this  is  all 
right.  .  .  .  Now  here's  ten  dollars  and  a  receipt  for 
that  much  in  full  of  all  claims  for  breach  of  promise 
and  so  forth  you  and  your  daughter  have  against 
Hay  ward  Graham.  You  just  sign  the  receipt,  and  I'll 
pay  you  the  balance  of  the  five  thousand  to-morrow  — 
there's  not  a  tenth  of  that  sum  in  the  house  to-night. 
You'll  take  my  promise  for  the  balance,  won't  you?  " 

"  Yes,  suh  —  oh  yes,  suh,"  said  Mr.  Porter,  his 
manner  showing  his  full  appreciation  of  the  fact  that 
between  gentlemen  of  standing  the  ordinary  strict 
rules  of  business  could  be  waived  with  perfect  safety. 
With  all  his  discernment,  however,  he  saw  nothing 
more  in  this  proceeding  than  his  trusting  Mr.  Phillips 
for  $4,990  till  the  morning. 

When  he  was  ushered  into  the  President's  office 
the  next  morning  Henry  Porter  received  from  Mr. 
Phillips'  own  hands  the  $4,990  in  currency  of  the  high 
est  denominations  fresh  from  the  treasury.  He  veri 
fied  the  correctness  of  the  amount  almost  at  a  glance. 

"  I'll  give  you  a  receipt,  suh,"  he  said. 


362          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

"  Oh,  no,  don't  trouble ;  the  receipt  for  ten  dollars 
in  Hayward  Graham's  name  in  settlement  of  the  claim 
for  breach  of  promise  answers  every  purpose  legally." 

As  he  spoke  the  President  smiled  in  a  satisfied  way, 
and  it  occurred  to  Black  Henry  that  a  ten  dollar 
breach  of  promise  suit  would  be  quite  a  contemptible 
and  ridiculous  affair  if  it  got  to  the  newspapers. 

"  And  now,  Mr.  Porter,"  said  Mr.  Phillips,  anxious 
as  ever  to  make  every  bid  for  silence,  "  you  can  see 
that,  adding  force  to  your  contract,  every  considera 
tion  of  decency  and  self-respect  demands  that  not  the 
slightest  whisper  of  this  matter  shall  reach  the  public. 
The  highest  consideration  I  have  not  hitherto  referred 
to.  That  is  your  daughter's  good  name.  It  could 
only  do  injury  to  her  reputation  —  injury,  and  noth 
ing  but  injury.  I  am  indeed  surprised  that  she  was 
so  unwise,  that  she  had  the  disposition  to  bring  this 
suit  and  bring  herself  into  what  would  have  been  such 
unfavourable  public  notice." 

"  Well,  suh,  Mistuh  Shaw  said  she  wouldn't  like  it, 
and  I  had  a  hard  time  makin'  him  bring  the  suit.  He 
said  she  wou —  ' 

"Didn't  she  instigate  it?"  asked  Mr.   Phillips. 

"No,  suh  —  that  she  didn'.  Fact  is  I've  been 
f raid  to  tell  her  about  it  —  f raid  she'd  make  me  stop 
it,  she  thinks  such  a  heap  of  Mistuh  Hayward.  .  .  . 
But  we've  got  it  all  settled  satisfact'ry  now  and  there 
ain't  no  reason  why  she  sh'd  ever  know  it  happened, 
suh.  Good  mornin',  Mistuh  President." 

"  You  old  scoundrel !  "  —  when  Mr.  Porter  had 
closed  the  door  behind  him. 


CHAPTER    XXXVI 

IN  trying  to  be  philosophical  Rutledge  took  what 
comfort  he  could  from  Elise's  "  no  "  in  the  fact  that 
he  would  be  less  distracted  from  the  work  of  his  cam 
paign  against  Senator  Killam.  He  gave  all  his  ener 
gies  to  that  task,  which  promised  to  tax  his  resources 
to  the  utmost  if  he  would  hope  to  win.  The  owners 
of  The  Mail  were  more  than  willing  that  he  should 
make  the  attempt.  His  temporary  stay  in  the  Senate 
had  given  the  paper  a  very  considerable  shove  toward 
the  front  rank  in  prominence  and  authority  in  affairs 
political,  and  there  was  nothing  to  be  lost  by  a  tilt 
with  that  most  picturesque  figure  in  national  politics, 
Senator  Killam. 

Let  it  be  understood,  however,  that  Rutledge  did 
not  run  simply  to  advertise  himself  or  his  paper.  His 
unfailing  friend  Robertson  wrote  to  him :  "  There  is 
a  very  real  opposition  to  Senator  Killam  growing  up 
in  the  State,  although  at  this  time  its  force  and  num 
bers  are  very  difficult  to  compute  with  accuracy. 
Your  admirable  conduct  of  yourself  in  your  short  try 
ing-out  has  commended  you  to  those  who  are  looking 
for  a  leader  of  conceded  ability  yet  not  identified  with 
any  of  the  petty  factions  in  State  politics  nor  with  any 
of  the  local  issues  upon  which  the  party  is  divided 
and  dissentient.  Your  friends  think  you  fill  all  the 
requirements  in  the  broader  sense  and,  besides,  that 

363 


364          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

you  are  the  antipode  of  all  things  peculiarly,  person 
ally  and  offensively  Killamic." 

Although  they  were  of  the  same  broad  political 
creed,  the  stage  of  antagonism  to  which  he  and  Sen 
ator  Killam  had  come  during  the  younger  man's  short 
term  in  the  Senate  bordered  on  the  acute.  It  had 
reached  the  point  where  they  were  studiously  polite 
to  each  other.  Senator  Killam  did  not  usually  trouble 
himself  to  be  civil  to  any  person  who  aroused  his 
antipathy,  but  he  had  the  idea  that  it  would  be  con 
ceding  too  much  to  young  Rutledge's  importance  to 
show  any  personal  unfriendliness  to  him.  Neverthe 
less,  with  all  their  outward  show  of  friendliness,  they 
were  both  out  for  blood :  Rutledge,  because  of  the 
many  of  the  older  man's  taunts  and  sarcasms  which 
still  rankled  in  his  memory;  and  Senator  Killam,  be 
cause,  whatever  the  time  and  whoever  his  opponent, 
he  always  gave  a  correct  imitation  of  being  out  for 
the  blood  of  any  man  that  opposed  him. 

Rutledge  had  already  begun  to  be  very  busy  with 
his  campaign  before  his  decisive  conversation  with 
Elise.  When,  some  ten  days  later,  he  received  a  letter 
from  his  mother  in  which  she  set  out  to  discuss  his 
admiration  for  Elise  in  light  of  Helen's  marriage,  he 
found  himself  entirely  too  pressed  for  time  to  do  more 
than  read  the  opening  sentences,  and  lay  it  reverently 
away. 

He  tried  to  forget  Elise,  —  as  many  another  lover 
has  done  before  him,  and  with  about  the  usual  lack  of 
success.  For  the  remainder  of  the  Washington  sea 
son  he  cut  all  his  social  engagements  that  were  not 
positively  compelling  and  fortunately  did  not  chance 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          365 

to  see  her  again  but  twice  before  he  went  South  to 
take  an  active  hand  in  the  primary  campaign. 

On  those  two  occasions  she  exhibited  the  perfection 
of  impersonal  interest,  but  Rutledge,  remorseful  for 
his  indefensible  behaviour  toward  her  at  Mrs.  Haz 
ard's,  was  conscious  that,  curiously  enough  to  him, 
her  gentle  dignity  had  not  the  faintest  trace  of  offence. 
It  seemed  rather  to  hold  an  elusive  though  palpable 
element  of  friendliness.  This  was  puzzling,  but  he 
did  not  attempt  to  explain  it  to  himself.  He  had  suf 
fered  enough  from  the  riddle  of  her  moods,  and  he 
was  afraid  to  try  to  explain  it.  He  was  convinced 
that  she  was  not  for  him  —  had  she  not  told  him  so  ? 
—  and  that,  having  lost  her,  it  was  imperative  that 
he  think  no  more  about  her  lest  he  lose  everything  else 
he  had  set  to  strive  for.  So  he  strove  only  to  lose,  the 
disquieting  thought  of  her  out  of  his  work. 

President  Phillips,  also,  in  those  days  \vas  attempt 
ing  to  flee  his  thoughts  in  a  wilderness  of  work.  Un 
like  Rutledge,  with  him  there  was  a  tax  upon  heart 
as  well  as  brain  in  the  political  task  before  him.  Rut- 
ledge  could  not  feel  aggrieved  if  the  people  of  his 
State  declined  to  send  him  to  the  Senate,  for  by  no 
merit  or  custom  had  he  a  pre-eminent  claim  upon 
them.  Defeat,  however  disappointing,  could  bring 
him  no  heart-burning. 

Mr.  Phillips,  however,  was  asking  no  more  than 
was  his  due :  renomination  at  the  hands  of  his  party. 
By  every  consideration  both  of  merit  and  custom  it 
was  his  due.  His  official  record  was  efficiency,  faith 
ful  execution,  striking  ability  and  uncompromising 
honesty.  But  by  very  virtue  of  his  honesty  and  ability 


366          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

he  had  gone  up  against  the  two  powers  in  this  country 
that  go  furthest  to  make  or  unmake  Presidents :  law- 
breaking  corporations  and  machine  politicians.  The 
Greed  and  The  Graft  could  never  be  at  ease  while  a 
Fearless  Honesty  abode  in  the  White  House.  They 
long  had  planned  to  displace  Mr.  Phillips. 

The  fight  was  not  an  open  one,  with  each  army 
aligned  under  its  own  banners.  It  was  a  night  attack 
where  the  clash  and  the  struggle  could  be  heard  and 
felt  but  the  assailants  could  not  be  distinguished  and 
called  by  name.  Mr.  Phillips  could  well  imagine  who 
were  the  leaders  of  his  enemies,  but  they  were  too 
shrewd  as  yet  to  openly  declare  their  opposition. 

The  consummate  skill  with  which  the  campaign  was 
conducted  made  it  appear  that  there  was  a  growing 
manifestation  of  the  people's  disapproval.  The  boom- 
lets  of  a  dozen  or  more  favourite  sons  were  assidu 
ously  cultivated  each  in  its  limited  field  —  but  all  by 
the  master  hand.  The  favourite  sons  as  a  rule  depre 
cated  the  mention  of  their  names  and  waived  it  aside 
as  unworthy  of  serious  thought;  but  it  takes  a  very 
great  or  a  very  small  man  to  recognize  his  own  unfit- 
ness  for  the  presidency  of  the  nation,  —  and  modesty 
would  permit  no  favourite  son  to  say  he  was  too  big 
for  the  office. 

Mr.  Phillips  was  not  of  the  holy  sort  that  is  above 
using  some  of  the  traditional  methods  of  the  poli 
tician.  With  good  conscience  he  could  drive  men  to 
righteousness  when  necessity  demanded  it :  and  be 
lieving  that  his  own  re-election  would  be  for  the  coun 
try's  weal  he  would  not  have  hesitated  perhaps  to  turn 
the  power  of  the  administration  to  that  purpose  if  he 
had  not  been  measurably  handicapped. 


THE  CALL  OF  THE  SOUTH    367 

He  was  an  honest  man  —  as  his  predecessors  in 
office  had  been.  He  desired  —  as  they  had  desired 
before  him  —  to  give  the  country  a  clean  and  honest 
lot  of  officials  to  administer  its  interests.  But,  unlike 
some  of  the  Presidents  gone  before,  he  had  made  ex 
traordinary  personal  efforts  to  see  and  know  for  him 
self  that  the  men  of  the  government  corps  were  of 
honest  purposes  at  heart  and  honest  practices  in 
office.  Result :  many  and  many  a  cog-wheel,  great 
and  small,  in  the  machine  had  been  broken  and  thrown 
into  the  scrap  pile. 

Therefore  the  machine  silently  prayed  for  deliver 
ance  from  this  Militant  Honesty  in  the  executive 
office,  and,  with  its  praying,  believed  —  first  article 
in  the  creed  of  Graft :  Heaven  helps  those  who  help 
themselves  —  to  deliverance  as  well  as  to  the  public 
money.  So,  there  was  no  pernicious  activity  in  Mr. 
Phillips'  behalf  among  the  office-holding  class.  The 
defection  from  his  support  was  impalpable  but  none 
the  less  assured.  He  could  not  put  his  finger  upon  the 
men  and  say  "  Here  are  the  deserters,"  for  they  had 
not  as  yet,  at  four  months  before  the  convention,  de 
clared  against  him.  But  they  were  not  throwing  up 
their  hats  for  him.  It  \vas  apathy  that  presaged  dis 
aster. 

And  Greed  had  so  quietly  and  effectively  extended 
its  propaganda  that  "  vested  "  interests  began  to  think 
they  "  viewed  with  alarm "  Mr.  Phillips'  activities. 
They  were  persuaded  that  he  had  already  gone  to  the 
limit  in  bringing  to  book  the  methods  of  Capital  and 
of  Business,  and  were  asked  to  note  that  not  even  yet 
was  there  the  faintest  hint  of  a  promise  that  he  would 
not  run  amuck  amongst  them.  They  preferred  to 


368          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

defeat  him  in  the  convention.  If  not,  they  would 
defeat  him  at  the  polls.  With  them  there  was  no  sen 
timent  about  it.  They  simply  wanted  no  more  of  him. 
They  desired  a  "  safe  "  man.  .  .  .  Few  times  in  the 
political  history  of  this  nation  has  Money  failed  to  get 
what  it  really  truly  wanted. 

Finished  politician  that  he  was,  Mr.  Phillips  could 
read  the  signs  clear.  He  knew  that  his  political  death 
was  being  plotted,  had  been  plotted  for  months.  In 
the  consciousness  of  his  official  rectitude  and  efficiency, 
and  with  confidence  in  the  discernment  and  apprecia 
tion  of  his  countrymen,  for  a  long  time  he  had  thought 
contemptuously  of  the  plotters.  At  length,  however, 
his  trained  eye  had  caught  the  flash  of  real  danger: 
and  his  heart  was  oppressed.  Not  that  overweening 
ambition  made  him  crave  continuance  in  his  exalted 
office  and  sicken  at  the  thought  of  denial.  It  was  not 
that:  not  the  loss  of  a  double  meed  of  honour  in  a 
second  term.  No;  it  was  the  threatened  loss  of  his 
first  term,  of  the  four  years  already  gone,  with  their 
unstinted  expenditure  of  energy  and  honest  purpose, 
brain-fag  and  strain  of  heart.  To  be  disapproved,  dis 
credited,  by  the  people  for  whom  he  had  given  the 
very  essence  of  his  life!  Keener  than  the  sting  of 
ingratitude,  even,  was  the  sense  of  possible  loss.  Four 
years  for  naught!  four  years  for  naught!  —  if  the 
people  should  repudiate  him.  He  trembled  to  think 
it  was  possible  for  him  to  fail  of  renomination.  He 
was  fighting  for  his  life :  for  the  life  he  had  already 
given  to  his  country  in  that  four  years. 

As  the  weeks  and  months  wore  on  toward  summer 
he  felt  that  he  was  losing  strength  with  every  sun 
set.  The  Southern  delegations,  makers  of  so  many 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          369 

second  terms,  were  being  sent  to  the  national  conven 
tion  uninstructed.  That  was  not  conclusive;  but  it 
was  ominous,  for  any  administration  having  Mr. 
Phillips'  political  faith  that  cannot  hold  the  delegations 
from  that  section  is  politically  in  a  bad  way. 

Plausible  explanations  were  offered,  assuredly: 
"  Southern  delegates  have  so  regularly  worn  the  ad 
ministration  label  that  they  have  lost  influence  and 
self-respect  "  -  "  This  time  it  is  unnecessary.  There 
is  only  one  real  candidate  and  they  must  all  vote  for 
him  "  —  "  It  is  better  not  to  appear  to  endorse  the 
negro  luncheon  too  vigorously,  for  the  negro  in  the 
South  does  not  count  any  more  and  some  of  the  tender 
foot  white  recruits  might  desert."  The  explanations 
did  appear  to  explain  it;  but  Mr.  Phillips  knew  that 
Money  and  the  Machine  were  taking  his  Southern 
delegates  from  him. 

And  the  Southern  delegates  were  not  the  only  ones 
that  were  going  wrong.  The  Trusts  and  the  Grafters 
were  throwing  Northern  and  Western  delegations 
into  confusion.  Beyond  that,  the  Southern  country 
was  somewhat  surprised  to  hear  that  a  negro  son-in- 
law  to  the  Presidency  was  a  little  too  strong  even  for 
Northern  stomachs,  and  that  some  Northern  white 
folks  were  making  bold  to  say  so. 

Hayward  Graham's  commission?  The  opposition 
in  the  Senate  did  not  have  the  slightest  difficulty  in 
holding  it  up.  Mr.  Phillips  with  unflinching  courage 
unhesitatingly  used  every  whit  of  his  power  and  in 
fluence  to  have  that  commission  confirmed  He  had 
nominated  Hayward  because  he  believed  him  worthy; 
and  he  said  to  the  Senators  with  a  touch  of  humour, 
but  with  much  emphasis  nevertheless,  that  being  his 


370 

son-in-law  ought  not  to  be  held  to  the  negro's  dis 
credit.  He  said  many  other  things,  for  he  was  really 
very  much  in  earnest :  but  the  Senate  was  non-com 
mittal.  It  postponed  consideration  of  Mr.  Hayward 
Graham  for  days,  and  weeks,  and  finally  adjourned 
without  a  vote  upon  him.  That  ended  it.  ...  With 
a  show  of  grim  determination  the  President  stated 
that  he  would  send  the  nomination  to  the  next  session, 
but  he  knew  when  he  said  it  that  Helen's  husband 
would  never  be  a  lieutenant  of  cavalry  in  the  United 
States  Army. 

Let  it  not  be  inferred  that,  as  the  matter  is  thus 
dismissed  briefly  here,  there  was  little  or  no  discussion 
of  it.  This  entire  volume  would  not  compass  a  tenth 
of  what  was  said  about  it,  and  the  reader  who  cares 
for  details  must  seek  the  files  of  the  newspapers  of 
the  period.  There  is  not  space  here  even  for  a  digest 
of  all  that  talk. 

Mr.  Phillips  could  ill  brook  defeat.  In  his  thinking 
there  were  few  things  worse  than  failure.  So  it  was 
that,  while  in  the  desperate  fight  he  was  making  he 
did  nothing  unconscionable,  he  did  stand  for  some 
things  nauseating  to  him. 

It  was  necessary  that  in  the  North  he  hold  the  full 
negro  vote,  which  was  the  balance  of  power  in  several 
States.  It  certainly  looked  an  easy  thing  to  do.  And 
it  was  easy  —  to  everybody  concerned  except  Mr. 
Phillips.  The  negro  race  rallied  to  him  with  an  en 
thusiasm  that  was  surpassing  even  for  those  emotional 
folk.  The  overflowing,  smothering  approbation  which 
they  heaped  upon  him  was  loud-mouthed,  unceasing, 
extravagant.  Yet  it  took  all  his  self-control  to  receive 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  371 

it  with  any  show  of  satisfaction.  In  fact  on  several 
occasions  he  was  almost  goaded  to  break  with  his 
negro  allies  for  good  and  all.  In  some  of  those  mo 
ments  he  easily  could  have  done  so  —  as  far  as  per 
sonal  reasons  held  him.  The  personal  pride  in  being 
decorated  with  a  second  term  was  not  always  a  match 
or  antidote  for  his  personal  humiliation  and  suffering 
under  the  mouthings  and  love-makings  of  the  admir 
ing  black  men.  But  a  rupture,  and  a  declaration  of  his 
real  sentiments,  meant  not  alone  his  defeat :  it  meant 
the  success  of  the  enemies  of  honest  government :  it 
meant  that,  his  tongue  once  unloosed,  Helen  must 
know  —  and  her  heart  would  break.  So  he  held  his 
peace,  and  let  the  negroes  say  on  with  their  fulsome 
friendlinesses. 

And  what  he  bore  as  he  kept  the  faith !  It  tore  his 
nerves  to  tatters.  One  incident  as  an  example : 

He  was  invited  to  address  a  convention  of  the  Afro- 
American  Association,  which  was  holding  its  biennial 
meeting  in  Washington  in  May.  He  accepted  the 
invitation  with  very  great  pleasure.  It  gave  him  the 
opportunity  he  desired.  The  negroes  had  been  talking 
to  him  or  at  him  for  months :  and  he  had  somewhat 
to  say  to  them.  He  welcomed  the  chance  to  say  it. 
He  was  full  of  his  speech,  and  was  intending  to  be 
very  emphatic.  It  was  his  day  to  talk. 

But  the  distinguished  chairman  of  the  convention 
who  introduced  him  thought  that  it  wras  his  day  to 
talk.  He  presented  Mr.  Phillips  in  fifteen  minutes  of 
perfervid  oratory,  sonorous,  unctuous,  and  filled  with 
African  imagery.  He  recited  a  brief  history  of  the 
President's  life,  lauded  him  as  Civilian,  Soldier,  and 
Chief  Executive,  credited  to  him  about  every  good 


372          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

thing  that  had  come  to  the  human  race  since  he  was 
inducted  into  office,  and  crowned  him  as  the  negro's 
Friend,  Champion  and  Hope.  He  detailed  the  evi 
dence  of  Mr.  Phillips'  love  for  the  negro  race,  and 
hailed  him  as  the  true  and  great  Exemplar  of  the 
Genuine  Brotherhood  of  Man. 

"  Yes,  my  Brothers,"  the  orator-chairman  swept 
volubly  to  his  conclusion,  "  this  great  man  who  holds 
the  Stars  of  Our  Flag  in  his  right  hand  and  in  his 
left  hand  the  Golden  Sceptre  of  Supreme  Authority 
and  Power  in  this  Peerless  Nation  has  proved  him 
self  beyond  any  Question  or  Peradventure  the  very 
Apostle  and  Archetype  of  Equality  and  Fraternity  in 
this  land  of  theoretical  Freedom  and  Equal  Rights. 
In  each  of  the  three  great  departments  of  our  life  he 
has  practised  that  Equality  and  Fraternity.  In  the 
civil  administration  of  this  Great  Government  he  has 
called  to  his  assistance  black  men  of  Mighty  Brain- 
Power  to  advise  with  him  about  his  policies  of  State 
craft  and  they  have  spoken  Words  of  Wisdom  to  him. 
In  the  military  department  he  has  appointed  to  an 
officer's  commission  under  the  Stars  and  Stripes  a 
brave  young  negro,  a  Gentleman,  a  Scholar,  a  Soldier, 
who  will  reflect  Honour  upon  the  Star-Spangled  Ban 
ner  and  show  the  world  that  the  Negro  is  a  Patriot 
and  a  Fighter.  And  more  than  that,  my  Brothers! 
As  the  crowning  act  of  his  Fearless  Career  the  Hon 
ourable  and  Honoured  Gentleman  who  will  address 
you  has  openly  recognized  the  negro's  rightful  place 
in  the  Homes  of  this  Country,  for  he  has  admitted  the 
race  as  an  Equal  into  the  Holy  of  Holies  of  his  own 
domestic  life,  and  furnished  supreme  and  convincing 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          373 

proof  of  his  love  for  black  men  by  freely  giving  his 
tender  and  gentle  daughter,  the  Fairest  among  Ten 
Thousand  and  the  One  Altogether  Lovely,  over  into 
the  arms  and  affections  of  that  same  young  Negro 
Soldier!  Connubial  Bliss  knows  no  Colour  Line,  my 
Brothers !  May  the  union  be  blessed  with  —  " 

But  fifteen  hundred  lusty  black  throats,  not  able 
longer  to  choke  down  their  cheers,  were  wildly,  exult- 
ingly  screaming  "  Phillips !  Phillips ! !  Phillips ! ! !  " 
The  chairman  said  a  few  more  words  in  pantomime 
and  gave  Mr.  Phillips  the  right  to  speak. 

Mr.  Phillips  was  very  slow  in  coming  to  his  feet. 
The  speech  that  he  had  purposed  to  make  was  gone  — 
all  gone.  The  chairman's  last  words,  like  a  chemical 
reagent,  had  turned  his  every  thought  to  vitriol,  and 
he  was  all  afire  with  the  impulse  to  pour  it  burning 
and  blistering  down  their  open  throats. 

He  stood  impassive  with  tight-shut  lips  while  they 
cheered  and  cheered  and  cheered.  In  the  fires  that 
scorched  his  spirit,  personal  and  political  ambition 
shrivelled  into  a  cinder  and  was  entirely  consumed. 
A  second  term  —  the  honour,  the  approval,  the  coun 
try's  weal  —  might  sink  into  the  Pit  rather  than  that 
he  would  blacken  his  soul  even  by  tacit  assent  to  such 
a  monstrous,  awful  lie!  Given  Helen  freely  to  a  ne 
gro's  arms !  —  he  would  blast  that  lie  with  — 

But  Helen !  in  the  tumult  he  thought  of  her.  And 
the  tenderness  of  his  love  for  her  made  him  to  tremble. 
In  a  moment  a  war  was  on  within  him,  and  the  strug 
gle  between  his  pride  and  his  love  shook  him  as  with 
an  ague. 

But  he  knew  the  end  from  the  beginning.     As  the 


374          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

cheering  died  away  Helen  dominated  his  thoughts  as 
she  dominated  his  heart,  —  and  he  did  make  a  speech 
to  the  convention.  It  was  not  a  forcible  speech  nor 
a  very  long  speech,  for  a  man  cannot  think  about  one 
thing  and  discourse  very  effectively  about  another. 
It  was  on  the  order  of  a  prayer-meeting  talk,  consist 
ing  mainly  of  platitudes  and  good  advice.  When  it 
was  finished  he  went  directly  home  and  lay  down  on 
a  couch  to  rest,  for  he  was  tired,  mortally  tired. 

From  that  day  forth  Mr.  Phillips  was  in  terror  of 
his  negro  allies.  He  made  no  other  addresses  to  them. 
But  he  could  not  escape  them.  The  negro  papers 
called  on  the  race  to  rally  to  the  Phillips  standard. 
This  the  joyful  blacks  construed  to  mean  that  they 
must  form  themselves  in  squads  and  go  over  to  Wash 
ington  and  tell  Mr.  Phillips  about  it  personally.  Many 
were  the  delegations  from  political  clubs  and  orders 
and  associations  of  all  black  sorts  that  called  to  pay 
their  respects  and  assure  the  President  of  their  loyal 
support  and  good  wishes;  and  despite  all  his  fore- 
handedness  and  precautions  it  was  a  very  dull  day 
when  he  was  not  openly  hailed  as  a  brother  to  the 
race  by  virtue  of  the  affinity  in  Helen's  choice  of  a 
mate.  He  was  not  permitted  to  forget  Helen's  plight 
for  an  hour,  —  if  he  had  chosen  to  forget. 

Indeed,  however,  he  had  lost  the  zest  of  thinking 
about  anything  else.  True,  he  fought  his  political 
battle  with  energy  to  the  finish,  and  gave  it  the  best 
thought  his  brain  could  furnish  —  but  that  was  be 
cause  he  was  a  born  fighter  and  knew  not  how  to  be  a 
laggard :  the  burden  of  his  voluntary,  uncompelled 
thinking  was  of  Helen,  and  it  grew  larger  and  larger 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          375 

upon  his  mind.  And  the  more  he  thought  of  her,  the 
more  he  would  think  of  her :  and  the  tragedy  of  her 
mating  loomed  more  darkly  hopeless  and  appalling 
before  his  face,  until  his  days  became  one  long  prayer 
for  a  miracle  of  deliverance. 

In  his  meditations  he  suffered  the  tortures  of  a  lost 
soul.  He  was  too  brave  a  man  to  shirk  his  accounta 
bility  for  Helen's  undoing.  In  moments  of  solitude 
when  he  was  most  racked  with  remorse  and  wildly 
despairing  he  would  cry  out  against  the  fatal  inter 
pretation  she  had  put  upon  his  words  and  his  deeds  — 
"  I  did  not  mean  that,  I  did  not  mean  that,  oh  my 
daughter,  my  little  girl,  my  little  girl !  "  -  but  these 
moments  of  self-excusing  were  only  the  wild  cries  of 
unbearable  agony.  In  composed  self-confession  he 
accused  himself  —  with  a  bitterness  that  had  in  it  the 
bitterness  of  death  —  and  in  the  genuineness  of  his 
penitence  he  might  have  proclaimed  his  error  and  put 
his  countrymen  on  guard :  if  only  Helen  must  not 
know! 

Summer  was  come  and  the  convention  was  less  than 
two  weeks  away  when  Mr.  Phillips'  first  political 
lieutenant  came  back  from  a  trip  to  New  York  with 
the  very  definite  news  for  his  chief  that  even  if  at 
that  late  day  he  would  promise  to  be  more  considerate 
of  the  business  interests  of  the  country  the  nomination 
might  yet  be  his.  Mr.  Phillips  promptly  sent  his 
answer  to  the  railroad  president  who  had  presumed 
to  speak  for  Business  that  he  "  would  see  the  business 
interests  damned  before  he  would  make  any  such 
promise."  .  .  . 


376          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

Three  days  before  the  convention  met,  Mr.  Phillips 
received  a  letter  written  in  pencil  in  a  weak  and  un 
certain  handwriting. 

"  We  have  named  the  boy  Hayne  Phillips.  When 
are  you  coming  to  see  us  ?  Daddy  dear,  it  tires  me  so 
to  write.  I  love  you.  HELEN." 


CHAPTER    XXXVII 

THE  Mr.  Phillips  who  on  July  the  3d,  191 — , 
alighted  from  the  car  at  the  little  station  that  served 
the  Stag  Inlet  folks  was  a  very  different  figure  of  a 
man  from  the  vigorous  person  who  on  a  day  in  the  pre 
ceding  October  had  taken  the  train  there  to  go  back 
to  his  work  in  Washington. 

There  was  now  no  spring  in  his  step,  no  quickness 
in  his  movement.  He  was  plainly  fatigued  and  pre 
occupied,  and  he  was  alone.  There  was  no  member  of 
his  family  with  him,  nor  any  of  them,  except  Hayward, 
to  meet  him  at  the  station.  A  single  secretary  followed 
him  at  some  little  distance  as  he  walked  down  the 
platform  mechanically  raising  his  hat  and  smiling  at 
the  half  score  of  persons  who  had  stopped  to  see  him 
take  his  carriage.  He  climbed  up  beside  Hayward 
into  the  single-seated  affair  the  negro  was  driving, 
nodded  to  the  secretary  to  follow  him  in  the  formal 
and  stately  victoria  that  was  waiting,  and  with  a  part 
ing  lift  of  his  hat  left  the  small  crowd  staring  at  him 
as  he  drove  away. 

The  onlookers  commented,  as  onlookers  will,  upon 
everything  that  struck  their  eyes  in  the  simple  pro 
ceeding.  They  wondered  why  he  appeared  so  listless 
and  careworn.  They  wondered  why  he  crowded  into 
the  narrow  buggy  instead  of  taking  the  roomy  car 
riage.  They  wondered  why  none  of  his  daughters 

377 


378          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

nor  his  wife  accompanied  him  —  why  he  looked  just 
a  little  bit  carelessly  dressed  —  and  what  had  become 
of  his  swinging,  buoyant  stride  —  and  whether  he  was 
altogether  in  good  health  and  —  well,  they  left  no 
question  unasked,  no  surmise  unturned. 

Mr.  Phillips  had  very  little  to  say  to  Hayward  dur 
ing  the  drive  to  Hill-Top.  He  really  desired  to  say 
nothing,  but  it  was  impossible  to  ignore  all  the  de 
mands  of  gentlemanly  politeness  and  interest  in  his 
son-in-law's  family. 

"  How  is  Helen  ?  "  he  asked  after  a  long  while. 

"  Not  so  very  well  yet,  sir,"  answered  Hayward. 
"  She  doesn't  seem  to  regain  her  strength  very 
rapidly." 

A  very  much  longer  silence. 

"And  the  baby?" 

"  The  finest  boy  in  the  world,  sir  —  you  ought  to 
see  him  —  strong  and  healthy,  with  lungs  like  a  steam 
piano." 

Mr.  Phillips  made  no  comment.  Hayward  looked 
round  at  him. 

"  He's  not  very  pretty,  sir  —  no  really  young  baby 
is,  I'm  told  —  but  the  nurse  says  it's  unusual  the  way 
he  notices  things  already.  I  know  all  new  fathers  are 
said  to  talk  like  that  about  the  first  baby,  but  really  I 
think  he  must  be  an  exception,  sir.  I  think  he'll  be  a 
credit  to  his  name  —  which  is  the  most  I  could  say 
for  him." 

Mr.  Phillips  acknowledged  the  compliment  by  noth 
ing  further  than  a  lifting  of  his  chin  —  which  Hay- 
ward  had  no  means  of  interpreting.  Having  ex 
hausted  the  subject  and  not  being  encouraged  to  pro 
ceed,  the  young  father  became  silent  —  and  Mr.  Phil- 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          379 

lips  was  glad.  He  had  not  chosen  to  ride  with  Hayward 
for  the  pleasure  of  his  conversation,  but  for  the  bene 
fit  of  the  on-lookers  at  the  railway  station ;  and,  hav 
ing  asked  the  questions  absolutely  demanded  by  the 
occasion,  he  did  no  more. 

Mr.  Phillips  waited  in  the  library  till  he  should  be 
told  that  his  daughter  and  grandson  were  ready  to 
receive  him.  Not  in  the  lull  before  the  battle  of 
Valencia  did  he  so  prepare  himself  for  a  trial  of  his 
nerves  and  his  courage.  His  courage  was  of  the  same 
old  sort,  but  his  nerves  were  sadly  shaken  by  the  cu 
mulative  happenings  of  the  last  half  year;  and  with 
Helen's  happiness  as  the  ruling  purpose  of  his  life  he 
felt  almost  afraid  to  trust  himself  before  her  eyes  in 
the  ordeal  through  which  he  must  pass.  Perhaps  she 
might  still  be  unable  to  read  his  dissembling.  God 
save  them  both  if  she  should  read  him  truly. 

The  nurse  came  in  to  tell  him  that  Mrs.  Graham 
was  \vaiting  to  see  him.  Hayward  had  intended  to 
witness  that  meeting,  but  there  was  something  in  the 
father's  manner  as  he  passed  him  in  the  hall  which 
caused  him  to  forego  his  purpose.  Mr.  Phillips  fol 
lowed  the  nurse  into  the  darkened  room.  Helen  half 
rose  to  a  sitting  posture  and  clasped  her  white  arms 
about  his  neck  and  sobbed  in  nervous  joy. 

"  Oh,  daddy,  you  have  come!"  she  said  brokenly 
—  and  for  a  long  time  neither  spoke.  ..."  I 
thought  you  would  never  come !  I  have  wanted  to  see 
you  so.  I've  been  so  lonely,  daddy.  Where  are 
mamma  and  Elise  that  they  have  deserted  me?  " 

Mr.  Phillips  as  he  bent  down  over  her  almost  lifted 
her  out  of  bed  in  the  force  and  tenderness  of  his 


380          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

embrace.  The  pitiful  little  cry  of  loneliness  almost 
tore  his  heart-strings  out  of  him. 

"  Your  mother  has  not  been  strong  enough  to  come, 
precious  heart,  and  Elise  has  to  stay  at  her  side  to  care 
for  her.  When  Dr.  Hamilton  prescribed  Virginia 
Springs  for  her  in  April  he  thought  that  two  months  of 
rest  would  restore  her  to  strength.  Last  winter  was 
a  very  trying  season,  and  your  mother  was  more 
broken  than  usual  by  its  burdens.  The  doctor  tells  me 
that  she  is  recuperating  very  slowly,  almost  too 
slowly,  but  that  rest  and  absolute  quiet  and  freedom 
from  excitement  is  the  only  thing  that  will  cure  her. 
1  saw  them  a  week  ago  to-day  —  I  wrote  you  —  and 
they  sent  their  love  to  you.  They  hope  to  see  you  be 
fore  very  long." 

"  Elise  might  have  come,  papa.  She  has  written  to 
me  quite  regularly  —  but  she  might  have  come  if  only 
for  two  or  three  days  —  so  that  I  could  see  some  of 
you  "  —  and  her  mouth  quivered  into  another  muffled 
sob. 

"  No,  no,  child,  she  could  not  leave  her  mother  — 
you  cannot  imagine  how  near  your  mother  has  been 
to  collapse  —  they  would  not  write  you  for  fear  that 
you  would  worry  too  much  about  it  —  and  she  is  still 
very  weak  —  nothing  seems  to  benefit  her  much  — 
the  doctor  can  hardly  find  the  cause  of  her  continued 
weakness  —  and  perfect  rest  is  the  only  thing  that  can 
help  her  back  to  health.  So  Elise  must  be  there  to 
relieve  her  from  every  exertion  and  effort  and  be  a 
companion  to  her.  for  my  visits  are  necessarily  brief. 
They  love  you,  little  girl,  as  always  —  though  they 
haven't  been  permitted  to  be  with  you.  Katherine  is 


THE    CALL   OF    THE    SOUTH          381 

too  young  to  have  come,  of  course,  and  she  would  have 
been  more  of  a  care  than  a  comfort,  anyway." 

"  Oh,  yes,  she's  young,  but  she  would  have  been 
somebody.  The  last  month  has  been  the  longest 
month,  daddy,  that  I  ever  lived  in  all  my  life  — 

"  Well,  well,  little  girl,"  the  father  said  soothingly 
as  he  smoothed  the  hair  on  her  temple,  "  don't  cry  any 
more.  The  waiting  is  over  now  and  we  won't  be  away 
from  you  so  long  again.  I  could  not  get  away  from 
Washington  a  day  earlier.  I  have  been  very  busy, 
you  know  —  doubly  busy  with  the  official  work  and 
the  political  campaign  too." 

"  Oh,  yes,  daddy,  I  want  to  ask  you.  Are  you  go 
ing  to  get  the  renomination  ?  "  There  was  an  excite 
ment  in  Helen's  question  that  her  father  saw  was  un 
usual  for  her,  with  all  her  characteristic  interest  in  his 
political  fortunes. 

"  Why  child,  I  —  I  think  so.  We'll  know  certainly 
in  a  very  short  time  now.  The  convention  is  in  ses 
sion  and  they  will  have  the  first  ballot  to-morrow,  I 
think." 

"  But  do  you  really  think  you  will  win,  daddy?  Is 
there  no  danger  of  losing?" 

"I  really  think  I'll  win,  little  woman;  but  you 
know  politics  is  a  most  uncertain  thing." 

'  Then  you  do  think  there  is  some  danger !  Oh, 
daddy,  is  what  I've  done  going  to  hurt  you?  "  There 
was  distress  in  her  accents. 

"  What  you've  done  ?  " 

'  Yes,  daddy.  It  never  occurred  to  me  till  yester 
day.  I've  seen  very  little  of  the  papers  since  we've 
been  up  here,  but  none  of  them  had  ever  mentioned 


382          THE    CALL   OF    THE    SOUTH 

such  a  thing  —  until  last  night  in  the  very  first  one 
the  nurse  would  let  me  look  at  even  for  a  minute  it 
said  that  '  just  how  many  or  just  how  few  votes  the 
President  will  lose  in  the  convention  because  of  his 
daughter's  having  married  a  negro  it  is  impossible  at 
this  time  to  forecast.  Southern  delegations  this  year 
are  unusually  uncertain  quantities.'  It  said  just  that, 
daddy  —  and  oh,  I'm  so  sorry  if  - 

"  Oh,  no  —  no  —  child.  You  haven't  hurt  me,  my 
chance  of  renomination,  in  the  least.  The  idea  is 
ridiculous.  Haven't  you  learned  by  this  time  that 
the  papers  will  say  anything?  They  must  say  some 
thing,  you  know ;  and  when  they  haven't  anything 
sensible  to  say  they  are  compelled  to  say  things  that 
are  absurd.  Suppose  the  Southern  delegates  are  un 
certain.  They  always  have  been,  except  when  the 
machine  had  them  tied  hard  and  fast.  Don't  distress 
your  heart  about  political  rumours,  little  girl.  I'll  win 
all  right.  I've  never  failed  in  my  life." 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  if  it  is  false,  daddy.  It  would 
break  my  heart  if  I  thought  I  had  done  anything  to 
defeat  you.  I  wish  there  were  no  Southern  delegates 
-  and  no  Southern  people,  with  their  bigoted  no 
tions  !  " 

"  You  are  forgetting,  little  woman,  that  your  grand 
mother  was  a  South  Carolinian  —  and  the  dearest, 
gentlest  soul!  If  she  could  have  lived  to  know  you 
she  would  have  loved  you  more  than  any  other  girl 
in  all  the  world,  I  think.  And  you  would  have  loved 
her,  Helen.  .  .  .  Don't  quarrel  with  the  Southern 
people.  Their  ideas  about  the  —  about  the  negro  are 
in  the  blood,  and  cannot  be  eradicated  in  two  or  three 
generations." 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          383 

Helen  began  to  speak  and  turned  her  face  casually 
toward  the  baby  lying  tucked  in  on  the  far  side  of  the 
bed  —  when  her  father  snatched  the  conversation  sud 
denly  from  her  and,  taking  it  thoroughly  in  hand, 
gave  her  little  time  except  to  listen. 

The  blow  had  fallen !  And  with  all  his  preparation 
he  was  unprepared !  Helen  was  confused  and  be 
wildered  by  the  incoherency  of  his  talk,  by  his  hur 
ried,  disjointed  speeches,  by  his  half-made  questions. 
He  was  making  a  blind  effort  to  put  off  and  push  back 
the  inevitable.  His  eyes  had  grown  accustomed  to  the 
subdued  light  of  the  room  and  as  his  vision  became 
clear  his  heart  almost  ceased  to  beat.  The  baby!  In 
that  half  light  was  revealed  the  darkness  of  the  little 
fellow's  face!  —  many,  many  shades  darker  than  the 
face  of  Hayward  Graham :  and  the  spectral  fear  that 
had  been  with  Mr.  Phillips  at  noonday,  at  morning, 
at  evening,  at  all  the  midnights  through  the  last 
months,  was  now  a  real,  weakening,  flesh-and-blood 
terror. 

With  a  hope  that  was  faltering  indeed  had  he 
prayed  for  the  miracle  that  might  deliver  Helen  en 
tirely  from  the  consequences  of  her  thoughtless  folly, 
but  with  all  his  faith  had  he  besought  a  merciful 
Heaven  that  the  child  which  would  come  to  her  should 
not  fall  below  a  fair  average  of  its  parental  graces. 
Even  that  were  a  torture,  that  were  horrible  enough : 
that  Helen's  gentle  blood  should  be  evenly  mixed  and 
tainted  with  a  baser  sort.  But  this  recession  below  the 
father's  type!  —  this  resurgence  of  the  negro  blood, 
with  its  "  vile  unknown  ancestral  impulses !  "  -  there 
came  to  him  an  almost  overpowering  desire,  such  as 
had  come  of  late  with  increasing  frequency  but  never 


384          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

with  such  physical  weakness  as  now :  the  desire  to  lie 
down  at  full  length  and  to  rest. 

As  he  talked  volubly  and  scatteringly  to  Helen, 
his  shaking  soul  cried  against  fate.  Why  should 
Nature  have  chosen  his  Helen,  the  very  flower  of  his 
heart,  as  a  subject  upon  which  to  demonstrate  her 
eccentric  laws !  Why,  oh  —  but  he  must  keep  his 
tongue  going  to  distract  Helen  from  his  distress  — 
why,  oh,  why  should  atavism  have  thought  to  play  its 
tricks  and  assert  its  prerogative  here !  Were  there  not 
enough  other  mongrel  children  in  all  the  earth  through 
whom  heredity  could  establish  her  heartless  caprices 
without  the  sacrifice  of  Helen  and  of  Helen's  baby! 
Oh,  the  sarcasm  of  pitiless  Chance,  that  the  most  dear, 
the  very  highest,  should  be  sacrificed  to  establish  the 
law  of  the  Persistence  of  the  Lowest  in  the  blood  of 
men !  Surely,  in  this  lesson,  that  law  had  been  taught 
at  an  awful  cost :  and,  as  if  to  show  that  it  had  been 
taught  beyond  cavil,  there  was  poked  out  from  under 
the  white  coverlet  a  tight-shut  baby  fist  that  was  al 
most  black. 

All  things  human  must  have  an  end,  —  and  Mr. 
Phillips'  subterfuge  was  very  human.  His  expedients 
finally  failed,  he  had  not  a  word  more  to  say :  and  yet 
he  was  no  nearer  being  prepared  for  the  inevitable 
than  before.  The  supreme  test  was  come,  and  his 
spirit  cowered  before  it.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life 
he  greeted  flight  as  a  deliverer,  and  decided  to  run 
away  from  danger. 

"  Well,  little  woman,  I  must  go  and  rid  myself  of 
the  dust  of  travel ;  "  and  he  was  half  way  to  the  door 
when  Helen's  weak  voice  arrested  him. 


THE  CALL  OF  THE  SOUTH    385 

"  Are  you  not  going  to  notice  the  baby,  daddy  ?  " 

The  pathos  in  that  trembling  question  would  have 
called  him  to  go  against  all  the  Furies.  Turning,  he 
hesitated  an  instant,  of  which  the  double  would  have 
been  fatal :  but  he  saved  the  moment  from  disaster. 

"  Dear  me,  I  was  about  forgetting  the  youngster." 

He  walked  quickly  around  the  bed  and  sat  down 
beside  the  boy.  Pulling  the  covering  a  little  away,  he 
took  the  tiny  hand  in  his,  and  grandfather  and  grand 
son  looked  for  the  first  time  each  into  the  face  of  the 
other. 

It  was  a  negro  baby:  the  colour  that  was  of 
Ethiopia,  the  unmistakable  nose,  the  hair  that  curled 
so  tightly,  the  lips  that  were  African,  the  large  whites 
of  the  eyes.  Verily  a  negro  baby:  and  yet  in  an  in 
definable  way  a  likeness  to  Helen,  a  caricature  of 
Helen,  a  horrible  travesty  of  Helen's  features  in  com 
bination  with  —  with  whose  ?  Not  Hayward  Gra 
ham's.  But  whose,  then?  Helen's  and  whose?  .  .  . 
Mr.  Phillips  could  not  answer  his  own  question  —  he 
had  never  seen  Guinea  Gumbo. 

In  a  moment  the  smaller  hand  closed  over  the  man's 
finger  as  if  in  approval;  but  the  man  straightened  up 
as  if  to  get  a  freer  breath,  and  glanced  involuntarily 
at  the  pale  mother.  Her  eyes  were  painfully  intent 
upon  him.  Driving  himself,  he  turned.  Murmuring 
a  nursery  commonplace,  he  leaned  over  and  kissed  the 
little  darkey  as  tenderly  as  he  might. 

There  was  no  escape  from  Helen's  eyes.  He  prayed 
that  she  had  not  seen  that  his  were  shut  when  he 
kissed  her  son  —  it  was  his  only  concession  to  himself. 

With  another  pat  or  two  of  ihe  small  fist  he  stood 
up  by  the  bedside,  bracing  his  knees  against  the  rail 


386          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

that  he  might  stand  steadily.  The  fever  was  not  yet 
gone  from  Helen's  eyes.  She  had  smiled  when  he 
caressed  the  boy,  but  she  was  yet  expectant.  On  her 
father's  verdict  hung  all  her  hopes,  and  his  face  for 
once  in  her  life  she  was  unable  to  read.  She  was 
vaguely  uneasy.  His  manner  was  inscrutable,  and 
she  had  never  seen  him  look  just  like  that.  Their 
eyes  met,  and  the  unconscious  pleading  in  hers  would 
have  wrung  any  verdict  from  him. 

"He's  a  fine  boy,  isn't  he,  little  woman?  ...  So 
strong  and  healthy  looking.  .  .  .  Shakes  hands  as  if 
he  meant  it.  ...  And  he  looks  somewhat  like  you, 
missy.  That  will  be  the  making  of  him.  .  .  .  But  I 
must  go  now,"  —  and  he  went  rather  precipitately. 

"And  will  you  hurry  back  to  us,  daddy?"  Helen 
called  to  him. 

"Yes,  child;  I'll  hurry  back,"  he  answered,  —  as 
he  hurried  away. 

His  secretary  handed  him  a  telegram.  He  took  the 
yellow  envelope  and,  without  so  much  as  glancing  at 
it,  went  into  the  library  and  shut  the  door. 

Very  late  in  the  afternoon  the  library  door  was 
opened,  without  invitation  from  within.  Mr.  Phillips 
was  sitting  in  a  chair  with  his  arms  upon  his  desk  and 
his  face  upon  his  arm  —  dead. 


"HIS    ARMS    UPON    HIS    DESK    AND    HIS    FACE    UPON    HIS 
ARM  DEAD." 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII 

AGAIN,  and  of  necessity,  is  the  reader  cited  to  the 
newspapers  of  the  time. 

It  is  not  meet  that  the  passing  of  a  chief  magistrate 
of  this  nation  should  be  passed  over  quickly  or  lightly 
in  any  history.  The  people  stopped  to  mourn,  to  cast 
up  his  life  in  total,  and  pay  respect  to  its  multiplied 
excellences,  to  study  his  virtues  as  if  in  hope  to  rein 
carnate  them,  and  to  glory  in  his  life  as  a  common  pos 
session  of  his  country.  And  yet  this  narrative  may 
not  pause  to  pay  befitting  tribute  to  him,  nor  to  detail 
the  tides  of  grief  that  swept  the  hearts  of  his  country 
men  with  his  outgoing,  or  the  stateliness  and  grandeur 
of  the  ceremonies  with  which  they  committed  his  body 
to  the  ground.  We  may  not  here  give  the  compre 
hensive  view,  for  our  canvas  is  not  broad  enough. 
Let  it  be  said  only  that  he  died  as  he  had  lived :  a 
gentleman  brave  and  tender,  —  honest  to  his  undoing, 
but  dead  without  having  know7n  defeat,  —  faithful  to 
his  love  for  Helen  even  to  the  death,  yet  making  no 
plaint  against  love. 

The  physicians  ascribed  the  President's  death  to 
heart  failure,  —  which  meant  little  more  than  that  he 
was  dead.  They  ventured  to  say  that  the  heart  failure 
had  been  superinduced  by  overwork.  This  verdict 
doubtless  would  have  stood  if  a  newspaper  man  the 
first  at  Hill-Top  had  not  chanced  to  hear  of  a  telegram. 

387 


388          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

The  telegram  could  not  be  found  although  the  sec 
retary  searched  diligently  for  it.  The  energetic  re 
porter  conceived  that  that  statement  was  a  subterfuge 
which  in  some  way  betokened  a  lack  of  confidence  in 
his  discretion,  and,  besides,  it  smacked  of  mystery  for 
a  telegram  to  evaporate  into  thin  air  in  a  dead  man's 
hand.  Put  on  his  mettle  thus,  he  made  it  his  business 
to  know  what  was  in  that  telegram.  Being  an  old 
telegraph  man  himself,  he  hied  him  down  to  the 
station  and  made  himself  pleasant  and  useful  to  the 
youngish  man  in  charge. 

President  Phillips  had  intended  to  await  the  deci 
sion  of  the  convention  in  Washington,  and  all  tele 
graphic  arrangements  for  convention  bulletins  had 
been  made  accordingly.  At  the  last  moment  Helen's 
trembling  little  letter  had  changed  his  purpose,  and  he 
had  slipped  quietly  off  to  Hill-Top,  notifying  only  Mr. 
Mackenzie  how  to  communicate  with  him  directly. 

The  moment  the  President's  death  had  flashed  upon 
the  wires,  the  capacity  of  the  little  Stag  Inlet  office 
became  sadly  overtaxed.  The  perspiring  and  flustered 
operator  was  very  grateful  for  the  assistance  of  the 
kindly  newspaper  man  who  modestly  proffered  his 
help  in  getting  the  deluge  of  messages  speedily  copied, 
enveloped,  addressed  and  dispatched.  Once  having 
his  hand  on  the  copy-file  it  was  an  easy  thing  for  the 
good  Samaritan  to  get  the  full  text  of  the  last  message 
that  had  gone  to  Hill-Top. 

He  could  not  decide  whether  it  was  so  very  valuable 
now  that  Mr.  Phillips  was  dead;  but  he  sent  it  to  his 
paper  along  with  his  other  stuff,  riding  a  dozen  miles 
in  a  midnight  search  for  an  open  telegraph  key. 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          389 

Much  pride  he  had  in  his  achievement  when  he  added 
to  his  news  report  a  statement  to  his  managing  editor 
that  the  text  of  the  telegram  was  a  "  beat  "  for  his 
paper  and  might  be  displayed  as  "  exclusive."  But 
his  feelings  were  very  much  hurt  next  day  that  they 
should  have  published  his  find  under  a  Chicago  date 
line  and  robbed  him  of  his  glory. 

THE  PRESIDENT  DIES  OF  A  BROKEN 
HEART 

He  Takes  the  Telegram  which  Tells  of 
Defeat  and  Is  Seen  No  More  Alive 

Chicago.  July  3d  —  After  a  conference  of  the 
leaders  of  the  Phillips  cohorts  this  afternoon  the  fol 
lowing  telegram  was  sent  to  the  President  at  Stag 
Inlet :  "  We  are  moving  heaven  and  earth ;  but  the 
forces  of  evil  are  too  many  for  us.  First  ballot  to 
morrow." 

The  news  column  was  after  that  fashion.  The  lead 
ing  editorial  was  a  scream  under  the  caption,  "  The 
Trusts  Have  Murdered  Him  t  " 

Mr.  Mackenzie,  who  had  sent  the  telegram,  was 
mortally  angry  that  the  odium  of  actual  defeat  from 
which  death  had  relieved  his  friend  should  have  been 
fixed  thus  upon  his  memory.  He  was  offended  almost 
beyond  endurance  with  his  confidential  clerk  despite 
that  young  man's  violent  disclaimer  of  responsibility 
for  the  leak;  but  he  was  most  enraged  at  the  diabol 
ical  discretion  of  the  managing  editor  of  The  Yellow 
in  omitting  the  name  of  the  sender  of  the  telegram: 


390          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

which  would  necessitate  that  he  admit  having  sent  it 
before  he  could  demand  to  know  whence  the  paper 
had  knowledge  of  it. 

The  convention  took  a  recess  for  ten  days,  and, 
upon  reassembling  after  Mr.  Phillips'  burial,  passed 
by  a  unanimous  vote  a  set  of  resolutions  that  lifted 
him  to  the  stars  and  gave  him  place  among  the  gods. 
Then  it  set  out  upon  a  long  round  of  balloting;  and 
without  being  altogether  conscious  of  the  reasons  and 
causes  impelling,  it  finally  nominated  a  "  safe  "  man 
for  President. 

Helen  could  not  attend  her  father's  funeral.  Piti 
fully  weakened  by  the  awful  shock  of  his  sudden  pass 
ing,  she  cried  out  with  all  her  remaining  strength  to 
be  carried  in  to  look  upon  his  face  in  death.  Her 
physician's  consent  after  long  refusal  was  due  to  his 
kindliness  of  heart,  and  the  result  vindicated  his  pro 
fessional  judgment,  in  that  it  came  frightfully  near  to 
taking  her  life. 

In  utter  desolation  of  spirit  was  she  left  when  they 
had  taken  the  great  man  out  of  the  house  upon  his 
stately  procession  to  Washington  and  the  grave.  Her 
husband  was  unfailing  in  devoted  and  anxious  attend 
ance,  but  she  was  listless  to  his  tenderest  efforts  to 
console  her.  Elise's  letters,  coming  now  every  day 
from  the  bedside  of  the  prostrated  mother,  Helen  read 
faithfully  to  the  last  word,  and  really  tried  to  take 
comfort  and  courage  from  them,  but  they  could  not 
get  down,  it  seemed,  to  touch  and  dissolve  the  cold 
mists  of  desolation  in  the  deeps  of  her  heart.  Her 
father,  the  stay  and  fixative  of  her  life,  was  gone: 
and  there  was  nothing  now  to  give  her  footing  upon 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          391 

the  earth.  No  one  to  interpret  life,  to  give  meaning 
to  life,  to  give  purpose  to  life,  to  give  value  to  life. 
The  days  might  as  well  move  backward  as  forward. 
They  appeared  not  to  be  moving  at  all.  There  was 
no  one  to  give  them  direction.  He  toward  whom  or 
from  whom  or  about  whom  the  days  had  always 
turned  as  a  sort  of  first  cause  or  incarnation  of  the 
reason  and  sense  of  things,  was  gone:  and  she  was 
in  chaos. 

With  her  weakness  of  body,  her  mental  processes 
were  weak,  and  her  mind  did  not  take  vigorous  hold 
of  things :  but,  confidently  as  it  had  followed  her 
father's  sentimental  speeches  about  the  negro  race 
and  loyally  as  she  would  defend  and  abide  his  words 
and  the  consequences  of  them,  she  could  not  control 
her  thinking,  even  in  its  weakness,  and  put  down  the 
thoughts  which  her  every  look  upon  her  baby  brought 
to  disturb  her.  Very  slowly  the  natural  spring  and 
rebound  of  youth  brought  her  out  of  her  physical 
relapse,  and  yet  more  slowly  out  of  her  mental  de 
pression.  But,  even  as  strength  of  body  and  mind 
returned,  there  came  more  insistently  the  questioning 
that  could  not  be  answered. 

In  her  heart  she  had  always  glorified  mother-love. 
In  the  days  and  weeks  before  the  baby's  coming  she 
had  revelled  in  the  dreams  of  motherhood,  and  her 
heart  had  been  overcharged  with  love  and  visions  of  it. 

But  this  little  fellow  was  not  the  baby  of  her 
dreams.  Never  in  all  the  hundred  varied  pictures  her 
heart  had  painted  had  there  been  a  child  like  him. 
He  was  not  of  her  mind,  surely ;  and  vaguely  uneasy 
and  distressed  was  she  that  he  was  not  of  her  kind. 
Nervously  she  swung  between  the  moments  when 


392          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

pent-up  mother-love  swept  away  all  questions  and 
poured  itself  out  upon  her  little  son  in  fullness  of  ten 
derness,  and  the  other  moments  of  revulsion  when 
she  could  not  coerce  her  rebellious  spirit. 

Feverishly  in  the  doubting  moments  would  she  re 
peat  over  and  over  her  father's  brief  words  of  assur 
ance.  Hungrily  had  she  awaited  them  before  he  had 
come  to  look  upon  the  boy,  greedily  had  she  seized 
upon  them  when  he  had  pronounced  a  favourable 
judgment,  and  longingly  she  wished  now  that  he 
could  come  back  to  reinforce  them  and  reassure  her 
faint  confidence  that  all  was  well.  Not  finding  a 
sufficient  volume  of  testimony  in  the  few  words  he 
had  spoken  in  that  last  interview,  she  supplemented 
them  with  all  she  could  recall  of  everything  she  had 
ever  heard  him  say  about  the  excellence  of  the  negro 
race,  and  added  to  that  all  the  nurse  had  to  say  of  the 
proverbial  uncomeliness  and  possibilities  of  phenom 
enal  "  come  out  "  in  very  young  babies :  and  for  days 
her  pitiful  daily  mental  task  was  to  lie  with  closed  eyes 
and  interminably  to  construct  and  reconstruct  of  these 
things  an  argument  to  prop  up  her  ever-wavering 
faith. 

Hayward  Graham  was  a  man  of  too  much  intelli 
gence  not  to  see  the  uncertainty  of  his  wife's  attitude 
toward  the  boy.  He  was  of  too  much  white  blood  in 
his  own  veins  not  to  have  suffered  measurably  the 
same  torments  because  of  the  baby's  recession  in  type. 
What  Mr.  Phillips  had  said  of  it,  he  did  not  know, 
and  dared  not  ask  Helen.  In  all  kindliness  of  purpose 
he  encouraged  her  to  believe  The  Yellow's  theory  that 
her  father's  heart  had  broken  under  defeat.  He  did 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          393 

not  know  that  she  was  agonizingly  fearful  of  having 
contributed  to  that  defeat. 

Helen  was  rummaging  through  her  father's  desk 
in  the  library.  With  the  first  escape  from  the  prison- 
house  of  her  bedroom,  her  feet  had  turned  instinc 
tively  toward  the  workshop  which  had  been  the  scene 
of  Mr.  Phillips'  labours  at  Hill-Top,  and  the  scene 
also  of  much  that  had  been  joyous  in  her  association 
with  him.  But  even  as  she  idly  tumbled  the  odds  and 
ends  of  papers  about  —  in  solemn  and  fascinated  in 
spection,  for  that  they  seemed  in  a  way  to  breathe  his 
spirit  and  to  invoke  his  presence  —  the  undercurrent 
of  her  mind  was  busy  as  ever  with  its  never-ending 
task. 

She  turned  up  a  small  package  of  notes  marked 
"  Cincinnati  speech,"  and  examined  them  absent- 
mindedly  ;  but  found  nothing  that  caught  her  interest. 
Tossing  them  back  in  the  desk,  she  picked  up  a  letter 
addressed  to  her  father  in  her  own  hand.  She  recog 
nized  a  rambling  and  rollicking  message  she  had  sent 
to  him  more  than  a  year  before.  From  the  appear 
ance  of  the  envelope  she  judged  that  he  must  have 
carried  it  in  his  pocket  awhile.  She  had  a  little  cry 
when  she  came  to  the  characteristic  closing  sentence: 
"  Daddy,  I  want  to  see  you  so  bad."  That  had  been 
a  simple  message  of  love.  Now  it  was  the  cry  of  her 
heart's  loneliness  and  need. 

Dabbing  at  her  eyes  with  her  handkerchief,  she 
pulled  out  from  the  bottom  of  the  drawer  an  unbound 
section  of  the  Congressional  Record,  from  which  pro 
truded  a  slip  of  paper.  Opening  it  at  this  marker,  she 


394          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

saw  a  blue  pencil-mark  which  indicated  the  beginning 
of  a  speech  before  the  Senate  by  Mr.  Rutledge.  Half 
way  down  the  second  column  her  father  had  made  the 
marginal  comment  "  good."  Further  along  was  a 
blue  cross  without  explanatory  note.  Still  further, 
"  very  good."  With  such  commendations  in  her 
father's  own  words  she  began  to  read  what  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge  had  to  say.  .  .  .  For  a  short  space  she  noticed 
her  father's  occasional  marginal  notes,  favourable  or 
critical,  and  the  more  frequent  non-committal  blue 
cross.  It  appeared  that  he  had  contemplated  prepar 
ing  an  answer  of  some  sort.  Very  soon  Helen  became 
so  interested  that  she  saw  only  the  text. 

With  faster  beating  heart  and  breath  that  came 
more  irregularly  she  was  drawn  irresistibly  along. 
It  was  an  answer  to  her  soul's  cry  for  a  word ;  and 
whether  true  or  false,  welcome  or  unwelcome,  she 
could  not  but  listen  to  that  answer  with  quickening 
pulse  as  it  ran  hurriedly  under  her  eyes.  Long  before 
she  reached  the  end  her  anger  was  ablaze  and  her  fears 
a-tremble,  but  she  could  not  throw  the  speech  from  her 
unfinished.  Almost  in  a  frenzy  of  excitement  and 
resentment  she  rushed  along  to  the  very  last  word : 
and  with  a  gasping  cry  of  horror  and  wrath  grabbed 
at  the  desk-drawer  with  the  intention  to  hurl  the 
pamphlet  viciously  back  into  it.  She  caught  the  slide 
instead,  and  pulled  that  out  with  a  jerk.  Lying  on 
the  slide  was  a  telegraph  envelope  which  her  violence 
threw  on  the  floor.  With  another  impatient  trial  she 
slammed  the  pamphlet  into  the  drawer,  and  mechan 
ically  picked  up  the  telegram. 

It  was  addressed  to   "  The  President,   Hill-Top." 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          395 

Turning  it  over  to  take  out  the  message,  she  found  it 
sealed.  Instinctively  she  hesitated  a  moment,  long 
enough  for  the  question  to  come,  "  Why  is  it  un 
opened  ?  "  Then  she  tore  the  end  off  the  envelope. 

The  message  read,  "  We  are  moving  heaven  and 
earth  but  the  forces  of  evil  are  too  many  for  us.  First 
ballot  to-morrow,"  and  was  signed  by  Mr.  Mackenzie. 

She  read  it  over  and  over,  stupidly  at  first,  for  her 
mind  was  excited  by  other  things.  Then  the  meaning 
of  it  began  to  be  appreciated,  and  her  heart  sank. 
Confirmation  of  the  newspaper  story !  The  telegram 
had  been  sent !  And  her  father  had  been  defeated, 
and  death  alone  had  saved  him  from  the  damning 
ballot!  Defeated,  yes,  really  defeated!  — and  she  had 
contributed,  if  only  a  mite,  to  that  defeat  which  broke 
his  heart!  Guilty  —  guilty!  She  bowed  her  head  in 
grief  and  agonized  self-condemnation.  .  .  . 

But  no :  —  she  started  up  —  the  telegram !  He  had 
not  read  it!  Had  he  read  it? — she  caught  up  the 
envelope  and  examined  it  feverishly.  ...  It  could 
not  have  been  opened  —  it  had  not  been  opened !  He 
had  not  read  it  —  he  did  not  know !  He  had  not 
known  of  his  defeat  —  he  had  not  died  of  his  defeat 
—  and  she  had  not  helped  to  send  him  to  his  death ! 
Oh  the  joy  of  this  acquittal !  —  and  she  held  the  en 
velope  as  one  under  sentence  might  clasp  a  reprieve, 
and  almost  caressed  it  as  she  made  sure  of  its  testi 
mony  in  her  behalf. 

When  she  had  assured  herself  that  the  envelope  had 
not  been  opened,  the  burden  upon  her  heart  would 
have  been  lifted  entirely  if  the  telegram  had  not  con 
firmed  the  fact  of  his  defeat.  He  had  not  died  because 
of  defeat,  and  she  was  acquitted  therefore  of  his  death, 


396          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

yet  she  was  acutely  sensible  of  the  fact  that  he  had 
gone  to  his  grave  in  the  shadow  of  defeat,  and  that 
death  alone  had  saved  him  from  the  shameful  actual- 
ity. 

This  was  gall  arid  wormwood  to  her,  for  his  name 
could  never  be  flung  free  of  that  shadow.  The  very 
time  and  manner  of  his  going-out  had  fixed  failure 
eternally  upon  him.  Oh  why,  her  heart  cried,  could 
he  not  have  died  before  or  lived  beyond  it?  Why  had 
he  died  then?  Mr.  Mackenzie  might  have  been  mis 
taken,  or  the  sentiment  might  have  changed  with  the 
balloting,  victory  have  come  out  of  defeat  and  his 
fame  have  been  without  a  cloud  upon  it.  Oh,  why 
had  he  not  lived  ?  —  lived  to  outlive  that  one  reverse 
-  lived  to  overwhelm  his  enemies  in  another  trial, 
lived  to  put  those  hateful  Southern  delegates  again 
under  heel?  Why  had  he  died  so  inopportunely?  .  .  . 
Why  had  he  died  at  all?  ...  Why  had  he  died? 
.  .  .  How  could  death  have  taken  him  so  quickly  and 
so  unawares?  He  had  gone  briskly  out  of  her  room 
with  the  promise  on  his  lips  to  hurry  back.  He  had 
kissed  the  baby  and  said  it  looked  like  her.  .  .  .  Yes, 
said  it  looked  like  her  —  the  baby- 

Hurriedly  she  snatched  the  Congressional  Record 
out  of  the  drawer  into  which  she  had  angrily  filing 
it!  Breathlessly  she  turned  the  pages  to  see  what 
comment  he  had  made  upon  that  last  part  of  Rut- 
ledge's  speech. 

Mr.  Phillips  had  put  but  one  marginal  note  against 
all  that  fearful  presentation.  Opposite  the  words, 
"  when  the  blood  of  your  daughter  ...  is  mixed  with 
that  of  one  of  this  race,  however  '  risen,'  redolent  of 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          397 

newly  applied  polish,"  etc.,  Helen  saw  the  single  writ 
ten  word,  "  unthinkable." 

Unthinkable !  Quickly  she  searched  again  that  por 
tion  of  the  speech  that  had  given  supreme  offence  — 
and  found  nothing.  Nothing  beside  the  word  "  un 
thinkable."  No  denial  had  her  father  entered  that 
"  vile  unknown  ancestral  impulses,  the  untamed  pas 
sions  of  a  barbarous  blood  would  be  planted  in  the 
Anglo-Saxon's  very  heart  "  by  such  unions  as  hers. 
No  hint  of  his  thought  as  to  a  "  mongrel  progeny." 
No  answer  to  the  question,  "  How  shall  sickly  senti 
mentalities  solace  your  shame  if  in  the  blood  of  your 
mulatto  grandchild  the  vigorous  red  jungle  corpuscles 
of  some  savage  ancestor  shall  overmatch  your  more 
gentle  endowment  .  .  .  ?  "  A  free  expression,  crit 
ical  or  approving,  of  the  first  half  of  the  speech;  but 
silence,  an  awful  silence,  when  it  comes  to  this  part 
so  pertinent  to  her  situation.  Silence !  —  for  the 
reason  that  her  situation  is  UNTHINKABLE! 

In  an  illuminating  flash  she  sees  the  Truth  —  sees 
all  the  minute  incidents  of  the  past  months,  the  looks, 
the  gestures,  the  things  unsaid,  which,  unnoted  by  her 
at  the  time,  were  yet  registered  in  her  subconscious- 
ness,  and  which  make  so  plain,  now  that  she  reads 
them  aright,  all  her  father's  thoughts  and  sufferings 
and  sacrifice  from  the  moment  when  he  had  cried, 
"But  a  negro,  Helen!  How  could  you!"  until  the 
time  he  had  rushed  away  after  kissing  her  negro  baby 
-  rushed  away  to  die !  ...  She  knew !  .  .  .  De 
spoiled  herself!  —  polluted  her  blood  beyond  cleans 
ing! —  brought  to  life  a  mongrel  fright,  and  brought 
to  death  her  father!  —  with  a  scream  of  horror  she 


398          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

staggered  to  her  feet.  ...  At  the  door  she  met  the 
nurse,  who  was  hurrying  to  her,  still  holding  in  her 
arms  the  baby  whom  she  had  not  tarried  to  put  down. 
"Take  it  away!  Take  it  away!"  shrieked  Helen, 
pushing  it  from  her  so  violently  as  to  hurl  it  from  the 
nurse's  arms,  and  staggered  on  through  the  hall,  out 
the  door,  and  down  the  path  toward  the  lake. 


CHAPTER    XXXIX 

THE  candidates  for  the  Senate  were  come  to  Spar- 
tanburg  in  their  canvass  of  the  State  before  the  pri 
mary  election.  The  campaign  was  about  half  finished 
and  had  already  reached  the  very  personal  stage  of 
discussion  so  dear  and  so  interesting  to  the  South 
Carolina  heart.  LaRoque,  Rutledge,  Preston  and 
Darlington  were  all  out  after  Mr.  Killam's  scalp,  and 
that  gentleman  was  making  it  sufficiently  entertaining 
for  the  four  of  them  and  for  the  crowds  who  flocked 
to  hear. 

Major  Darlington  and  "  Judge  "  Preston  were 
running  each  in  the  hope  that  "  something  might  hap 
pen  :  "  Mr.  Rutledge  and  Colonel  LaRoque  each  in  an 
effort  to  poll  the  largest  vote  next  to  Mr.  Killam  and 
thus  be  left  to  try  conclusions  alone  with  the  old  man 
in  a  second  primary  —  provided  the  four  of  them  in 
an  unformulated  coalition  could  keep  the  old  man 
from  winning  out  of  hand  in  the  first  trial. 

At  the  hotels  on  the  Saturday  morning  of  the 
Spartanburg  meeting,  each  of  the  candidates  was  sur 
rounded  by  a  coming  and  going  crowd  of  his  admirers 
and  supporters  and  persons  curious  to  see  what  he 
looked  like.  Senator  Killam,  as  by  right,  was  the 
centre  of  the  largest  interest.  Nearest  about  him  were 
his  most  trusted  lieutenants  in  the  county,  who  did  not 
come  and  go  with  the  changing  crowd  but  stood  by 

399 


400          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

to  whisper  confidences  to  the  Senator,  to  receive  his 
more  intimate  disclosures,  and  to  present  formally 
sundry  citizens  who  desired  to  shake  the  great  man's 
hand  and  be  called  by  name. 

A  little  further  removed  from  the  Senator's  person 
were  the  inevitable  two  or  three  of  that  super-admir 
ing  yokel  type  which,  too  ignorant,  unwashed  and 
boorish  to  stand  in  the  Very  Presence,  is  yet  vastly 
joyed  to  hang  about,  open-mouthed  and  open-eared, 
in  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of  greatness,  in  the 
hope  to  be  counted  in  among  its  entourage.  Still 
further  out  the  curious  viewed  "  the  old  man  "  from 
a  respectful  distance  and  commented  upon  him,  freely 
and  respectfully  or  otherwise,  as  freeborn  American 
citizens  are  wont  to  do.  The  while  the  crowd  shifted 
and  eddied,  came  and  wrent.  As  about  Senator 
Killam,  so  in  less  degree  moved  the  tides  about  the 
other  aspirants. 

"  Senator,"  asked  one  of  the  inner  circle  in  a  quiet 
moment,  "  what  do  you  think  of  our  chances  with  the 
national  ticket  ?  " 

"  Not  so  good  as  they'd  have  been  with  Phillips 
against  us,"  answered  Mr.  Killam. 

"  Oh,  of  course  not,"  said  the  questioner,  glad  to 
display  his  political  wisdom,  "  I've  told  the  boys  all 
along  that  we  could  have  beaten  Phillips  with  that 
nigger  son-in-law  of  his  sure  as  shootin'." 

"  That's  where  you  are  mistaken,"  replied  the  Sen 
ator  oracularly.  "  We  might  have  beaten  Phillips  if 
we  had  nominated  a  dyed-in-the-wool  corporation  law- 
agent  like  they  have  now  put  up  against  us;  but  the 
nigger  son-in-law  wouldn't  have  cut  any  ice.  I  believe 
at  heart  they  don't  like  that  any  more  than  we  do, 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          401 

but  if  the  Trusts  would  have  permitted  it  they  would 
have  put  Phillips  and  his  nigger  back  there  just  to 
show  us  they  could  do  it.  ...  They've  got  a  lot  of 
fool  notions  about  '  justice  to  the  nigger  '  that  make 
me  sick.  .  .  .  Justice  to  the  nigger  is  to  make  him 
know  his  place  and  teach  him  to  be  happy  in  it;  but 
the  Yankees  haven't  got  the  sense  to  see  it.  Rutledge, 
even,  had  a  lot  of  that  damn  nonsense  in  his  speech 
on  the  Hare  Bill.  Half  of  what  he  said  was  very 
good,  if  he  had  only  voted  accordingly  and  left  out  all 
that  rot  about  educating  the  nigger.  .  .  „  How  in  the 
devil  he  got  his  ideas  I  can't  see.  He  didn't  inherit 
'em,  for  his  aristocratic  old  daddy  thought  it  was  a 
dangerous  thing  to  educate  the  lower  classes  of  white 
folks." 

"  You  are  not  worrying  yourself  much  about  Rut- 
ledge  in  this  race,  are  you,  Senator?" 

"  No,  no,  he'll  never  hear  the  gun  fire.  Why  man, 
he's  neither  one  thing  nor  the  other.  Some  of  his 
ideas  about  the  nigger  will  make  any  white  man  mad, 
and  yet  nobody  ever  did  make  a  more  forcible  protest 
against  Phillips'  nigger  luncheon,  nor  paint  a  more 
horrible  picture  of  miscegenation.  .  .  .  Strange  thing 
about  that,  too,"  —the  Senator  lowered  his  voice  to 
reach  only  the  inmost  circle,  and  the  yokels  almost  dis 
located  their  necks  in  attempts  to  burglarize  his  con 
fidence  —  "  do  you  know  it  was  whispered  that  Rut- 
ledge  was  engaged  to  Phillips'  oldest  daughter " 
the  Senator's  voice  dropped  still  lower  —  "  no  doubt, 
they  say,  that  he  is,  or  was,  very  much  in  love  with 
her." 

The  smaller  circle  exchanged  glances  of  interest, 
and  a  smile  went  round. 


402          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

"  Gosh,  isn't  that  a  situation !  "  said  one  of  them. 
""  Yes,  but  don't  mention  it,"  Mr.  Killam  requested. 
"Certainly  not." 

"  What  was  it  he  told  'em?  "  asked  one  of  the  un 
washed  of  his  more  fortunately  placed  fellow. 

"  I  didn't  ketch  it  all,"  replied  the  other,  proud 
nevertheless  to  possess  even  a  fragment  of  a  state 
secret. 

The  crowd  was  far  too  large  for  the  Spartanburg 
court-house,  so  the  public  discussion  was  had  under  the 
oaks  of  Burnett  Park.  An  improvised  platform  of 
planks  laid  upon  empty  boxes  lifted  the  candidates 
high  into  view  of  the  assembled  Spartans,  who  stood 
without  thought  of  fatigue  for  six  hours  and  listened 
to  the  merry  war  of  words,  and  encouraged,  inter 
rogated,  cheered  and  howled  at  the  speakers  in  good 
old  primary  campaign  fashion. 

The  primary  campaign  is  inherently  prolific  of  heat 
and  hate :  for  the  candidates,  being  agreed  on  political 
principles,  are  driven  perforce  to  the  discussion  of 
personal  records  and  foibles.  This  campaign  had  de 
veloped  the  most  friction  between  Mr.  LaRoque  and 
Mr.  Killam,  these  two  having  been  long  in  public  life 
and  having  accumulated  the  usual  assorted  odds  and 
ends  of  memories  they  would  desire  to  forget. 

In  the  very  beginning  of  the  canvass  the  Senator 
and  the  Colonel  had  rushed  through  Touchstone's 
category  from  the  Retort  Courteous  to  the  Quip 
Modest,  the  Reply  Churlish,  the  Reproof  Valiant,  the 
Countercheck  Quarrelsome,  the  Lie  with  Circumstance, 
and  had  pulled  up  on  the  very  ragged  edge  of  the  Lie 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          403 

Direct.  There  they  had  hung  for  days,  while  an  ap 
preciative  public  feigned  to  wait  in  breathless  sus 
pense  for  the  moment  when  the  unequivocal  words 
"  You  are  a  liar  "  should  precipitate  a  tragedy  and  the 
coroner  count  one  of  the  gentlemen  out  of  the  race. 

At  many  of  the  meetings,  the  reports  had  it,  were 
the  people  "  standing  on  the  crust  of  a  muttering  vol 
cano,"  or  in  tense  situations  where  "  a  single  spark  to 
the  powder"  would  have  —  played  hell;  and  espe 
cially  at  Gaffney  on  the  preceding  day,  so  the  news 
papers  said,  was  the  feeling  so  bitter  and  the  words 
so  caustic  that  partisans  of  Killam  and  LaRoque, 
"  desperate  men  who  would  shoot  at  the  drop  of  a 
hat,  had  stood  with  bated  breath,  hand  on  pistol,  im 
minently  expectant  of  the  fatal  word  that  should  cause 
rivers  of  blood  to  flow." 

Non-residents  who  occasionally  read  of  the  South 
Carolina  campaigns  and  have  formed  the  idea  that 
they  are  things  of  blood,  battle,  murder  and  sudden 
death,  may  be  somewhat  relieved  and  reassured  to 
learn  that  in  the  last  thirty  years  not  a  single  volcano 
has  erupted,  not  a  powder-mine  has  exploded,  not  a 
teaspoonful  of  blood  have  all  the  candidates  together 
shed  —  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  a  fiery  Lie 
Direct  has  more  than  once  been  pitched  sputtering  hot 
into  the  powder  of  these  debates.  Let  timid  outsiders 
not  be  too  much  overwrought,  therefore,  because  of 
these  bated  breaths  and  hands  full  of  pistols,  —  it  is 
just  a  cute  way  the  good  South  Carolinians  have  of 
manifesting  an  interest  in  the  proceedings. 

The  Spartanburg  debate  drew  itself  along  after  the 
usual  fashion.  There  was  plenty  of  noise,  gesticula 
tion  and  heat,  and  the  usual  allotment  of  "  critical 


404          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

moments  "  when  "  tragedy  was  miraculously  averted  " 
by  the  "  marvelous  self-control  and  cool  head  of  the 
Honourable  "  Thomas,  Richard  or  Henry. 

Senator  Killam  followed  Colonel  LaRoque,  and 
long  before  he  had  finished,  the  crust  over  the  volcano 
had  been  worn  thinner  than  ever,  the  crowd  was  in  a 
tumult,  and  no  man  could  have  made  an  altogether 
coherent  speech  to  it. 

The  Senator  had  not  referred  to  Rutledge  in  his 
talk,  but  at  the  end  of  it,  as  Rutledge  was  to  follow 
him,  he  introduced  him  to  the  people  as  "  my  young 
friend  who  believes  it  is  possible  for  a  negro  to  become 
the  equal  of  a  white  man."  It  had  been  Mr.  Killam's 
studied  practice  to  ignore  Rutledge  and  treat  his  can 
didacy  as  a  harmless  youthful  caper,  and  he  usually 
referred  to  his  former  colleague  briefly  in  the  very 
words  in  which  he  then  presented  him  to  the  assem 
bled  Spartans. 

Mr.  Killam's  shrewd  but  unfair  characterization  of 
him  gave  Rutledge  a  fine  opening  for  a  speech,  but  it 
gave  him  no  little  trouble  also,  for  the  Senator  always 
appeared  to  make  the  statement  casually  with  an  air 
that  said  it  didn't  make  the  slightest  difference  any 
way  what  the  young  Mr.  Rutledge  thought;  and  it 
was  a  difficult  thing  for  Rutledge  to  straighten  the 
matter  out  without  magnifying  the  gravity  of  the 
charge. 

Rutledge  was  quite  able  to  take  care  of  himself  in 
any  controversy  where  calm  and  intelligent  reason 
was  the  arbiter,  but  it  requires  a  peculiar  order  of 
ability  to  be  master  of  such  assemblies  as  was  gathered 
there.  While  far  from  being  a  novice  or  a  failure  at 
stump-speaking,  Rutledge  was  not  in  Senator  Killam's 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          405 

class  at  that  business.  He  had  not  learned  that,  what 
ever  else  it  may  be,  and  however  much  it  may  be  such 
incidentally,  a  stump-speech  is  not  primarily  an  appeal 
to  reason.  He  took  too  much  pains  to  be  perfectly 
accurate,  consistent  and  logical  in  all  the  details  of  his 
argument.  He  dealt  too  much  in  argument.  His  rea 
soning  was  excellent  —  as  far  as  he  was  permitted  to 
deliver  it ;  but  many  of  his  choicest  webs  of  logic  were 
demolished  half-spun  by  the  irrelevant,  irreverent,  im 
pertinent  questions  yelled  at  him  by  the  crowd. 

It  takes  a  shifty  man  to  accept  all  these  challenges 
and  turn  them  to  his  own  account.  Rutledge  was  well 
aware  of  that  fact,  but  it  was  not  for  that  reason 
alone  that  he  ignored  them  as  far  as  possible.  He  had 
started  out  on  the  campaign  with  the  high  purpose 
and  resolve  to  pay  his  countrymen  the  compliment  to 
talk  to  them  as  to  men  who  think,  and  he  had  held  as 
religiously  to  that  ideal  as  his  countrymen  would  per 
mit. 

Like  the  other  three  he  was  addressing  himself 
principally  to  the  record  and  claims  of  Mr.  Killam, 
and  the  Killam  partisans,  already  fomented  by 
LaRoque's  speech,  were  in  a  ferment  of  disorder.  In 
a  perfect  shower  of  interruptions  Rutledge  had  held 
his  way  unturned  and  apparently  unnoticing  when  — 

"  You  want  to  marry  ol'  Phillips'  oldes'  daughter, 
don't  yuh?"  split  the  air  like  the  crack  of  a  bull- 
whip. 

Rutledge,  hand  uplifted  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence, 
stopped  so  quickly,  so  astonished,  that  he  forgot  to 
lower  his  arm. 

"Um-huh!  Thought  that'd  fetch  yuh!  When're 
yuh  goin'  to  marry  the  nigger's  sister?  " 


406          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

Before  Rutledge  could  locate  the  disturber  the 
crowd  was  in  an  uproar. 

"Kill  him!"  "Kick  him  out!"  "Hit  him  in 
the  head  with  an  axe!"  -these  were  only  a  few  of 
the  cries  that  tore  themselves  through  the  pandemo 
nium. 

Rutledge  stood,  pale  with  passion,  while  the  out 
burst  spent  itself.  It  seemed  a  very  long  time. 

"  My  fellow  countrymen,"  he  said,  when  his  voice 
could  be  heard  —  and  at  the  sound  of  it  the  assem 
blage  became  very  quiet  —  "I  will  answer  my  un 
known  and  unseen  questioner  as  though  he  were  a  man 
and  not  a  dog.  I  have  not  the  honour  or  the  hope 
to  be  engaged  to  Miss  Phillips ;  but,  if  I  had,  I  would 
account  myself  most  fortunate.  So  much  for  the 
question.  ...  As  for  the  man  who  asked  it,  we  cer 
tainly  have  come  upon  strange  times  in  South  Carolina, 
my  countrymen,  if  the  names  of  women  are  to  be  ban 
died  in  political  debates.  It  has  not  surprised  me  to 
see  you  rebuke  it.  By  your  quick  indignation  at  such 
an  outrage  you  have  spontaneously  vindicated  the 
good  name  of  your  State.  The  dog  who  made  this 
attack  cannot  be  of  South  Carolina.  If  born  so  he  is 
a  degenerate  hound.  You  have  no  part  with  him: 
and  before  you  kick  him  out  there  is  only  left  for 
you  to  inquire  whose  collar  he  wears.  What  master 
has  fed  him  and  trained  him  and  taught  him  this 
trick,  and  secretly  has  set  him  on  to  make  this  attack  ? 
That  is  the  only  question,  my  countrymen :  Whose 
hound  dog  is  this?  " 

"Rutledge!  Rutledge!  Hurrah  for  Rutledge!" 
"  Kick  him  out!  "  "  Shoot  the  dog!  "  "  Tie  a  can 
to  his  tail!"  "Who's  lost  a  dog?"  "Hurrah  for 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          407 

Rutledge!"  Rutledge's  supporters  bestirred  their 
lungs  to  make  the  most  of  the  situation. 

"  You  go  to  hell !  Hurrah  for  Killam !  "  —  the  de 
fiant  voice  was  the  voice  of  the  offender. 

Senator  Killam  sprang  to  his  feet  with  the  bound 
of  a  panther. 

"  Say,  you!  "  -he  leaned  far  over  the  edge  of  the 
platform  and  shook  his  fist  in  a  towering  rage  at  his 
admirer  who  now  stood  revealed  —  "I  give  you  to 
understand  that  I  don't  want  the  support  of  any  such 
damn  scoundrel  as  you  or  any  of  your  folks,  you  in 
fernal  —  '  but  bless  you,  though  the  Senator  was 
screaming  his  denunciation,  the  rest  of  it  was  lost  to 
history  in  the  war  of  applause  in  which  "Killam!" 
and  "  Rutledge !  "  seemed  to  bear  about  equal  weight. 
The  deafening  crash  o-f  sound  seemed  to  double  when 
Mr.  Killam,  ceasing  his  screaming  pantomime,  stepped 
quickly  over  to  Rutledge  and  extended  his  hand, 
which  Rutledge  took  and  shook  with  warmth  as  the 
old  man  spoke  something  that  of  course  the  crowd 
could  not  hear. 

After  the  speaking  was  finished,  Rutledge  went 
back  to  his  hotel,  and,  taking  from  the  clerk  a  bundle 
of  mail  that  had  been  forwarded  to  him,  climbed  up 
to  his  room  to  look  it  over. 

The  third  letter  he  opened  was  in  a  plain  business 
envelope  with  typewritten  address.  He  read : 

"  Unspeakably  false?  No,  no,  Evans,  I  am  not 
false.  I  have  not  been  false :  for  I  love  you.  Such 
a  long  time  I  have  loved  you.  Sometimes  I  have  be 
lieved  you  loved  me,  and  sometimes  I  have  doubted ; 
but  I  do  not  doubt  since  you  told  me  to-night  I  was 


408          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

unspeakably  false.  Shame  on  you  to  swear  at  your 
sweetheart  so !  —  and  bless  you  for  saying  it,  for  now 
I  know.  O  why  did  you  not  say  it  earlier  so  that  I 
might  not  have  misread  you?  I  thought  you  felt 
yourself  committed,  and  must  go  on :  that  your  love 
was  dead,  but  honour  held  you.  You  looked  so  dis 
tressed,  dear  heart,  that  I  was  misled.  Forgive  me. 
And  do  not  think  I  do  not  know  your  distress.  I,  too 
—  but  no,  I  must  not.  I  love  you,  I  cannot  do  more. 
In  your  rage  were  you  conscious  that  your  kiss  fell 
upon  my  lips,  dearest?  Blind  you  were  when  you 
said  I  was  unspeakably  false  — 


CHAPTER    XL 

ELISE  PHILLIPS  had  not  stirred  from  Virginia 
Springs  since  coming  there  with  her  mother  and  two 
little  sisters  early  in  April.  Her  father  had  visited 
them  regularly  each  week-end  except  when  imperative 
official  duties  forbade,  and  had  suggested  at  his  almost 
every  coming  that  Elise  take  some  little  outing  from 
her  mother's  bedside.  Elise  would  not  go.  She  was 
as  constant  in  ministering  to  her  mother  as  was  the 
nurse  in  charge. 

Not  even  when  her  father  died  did  she  go  to  look 
upon  him  in  farewell,  for  she  was  momentarily  fear 
ful  lest  her  mother  go  away  also  for  ever.  It  was  a 
forced  choice  between  the  claims  of  the  living  and  the 
dead.  Her  heart  was  torn  with  a  distressing  sense 
of  her  father's  loneliness  in  death  —  going  to  his 
grave  in  state,  thousands  following  his  catafalque  — 
and  yet  not  a  single  member  of  his  family  beside  him : 
her  mother  and  Helen  prostrated,  Katharine  and  May 
too  very  young,  and  she  herself  drawn  on  the  rack  of 
a  divided  duty. 

Her  daily  life  had  been  secluded  and  monotonous, 
except  in  the  moments  when  her  cumulating  sorrows 
were  so  poignant  that  they  drove  out  monotony.  With 
religious  regularity  and  with  tenderest  love  —  as  for 
a  wayward  unfortunate  child  —  she  had  written  to 
Helen  at  Hill-Top,  and  at  the  private  hospital  in  which 
she  was  now  detained,  until  the  physician  in  charge 

409 


410          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

had  requested  that  she  discontinue  her  letters  except 
at  such  times  as  he  should  advise. 

Only  in  the  last  fortnight,  since  her  mother  was 
beginning  slowly  to  recover  strength,  had  Elise  given 
the  slightest  heed  to  her  physician's  orders  that  she 
herself  take  some  appreciable  outdoor  exercise  and 
care  of  her  health.  Few  of  the  summer  visitors  stop 
ping  at  the  one  hotel  of  the  quiet  resort  ever  had  a 
glimpse  of  her,  for  the  reason  that  the  cottage  taken 
by  Mrs.  Phillips  was  quite  removed  and  secluded. 
The  few  friends  who  did  see  her  remarked  upon  her 
loss  of  flesh  and  added  beauty. 

Elise  was  never  beautiful  after  an  assertive,  flam 
boyant  fashion,  but  was  of  that  sublimated  type  of 
loveliness  that,  stealing  slowly  and  softly  in  upon  the 
senses,  at  last  holds  them  rapt  before  the  Rare  Vision : 
Woman  in  Excelsis.  Now,  however,  vigils  and  griefs 
had  touched  her  face  and  form  with  a  spirituelle  qual 
ity  not  ordinarily  possessed  by  them,  and  this  ethereal 
effect  caught  the  eye  more  quickly,  and  revealed  at 
once  the  fine  and  exquisite  modelling  of  her  beauty. 

She  had  seen  and  heard  very  little  of  Rutledge  for 
half  a  year.  During  the  remainder  of  the  Washing 
ton  season  after  Helen's  marriage  was  announced  she 
had  bravely  kept  up  appearances  by  missing  none  of 
the  functions  and  gayeties  that  had  claim  upon  her 
time  and  interest,  and  on  one  or  two  occasions  had 
been  face  to  face  with  him  and  exchanged  brief  but 
formal  salutations.  Since  she  had  been  at  Virginia 
Springs  an  occasional  brief  press  notice  of  the  South 
Carolina  senatorial  campaign  was  all  the  word  she 
had  of  him  except  a  couple  of  lines  in  a  letter  from 
Lola  Hazard  in  May. 


411 

On  the  Sunday  morning  after  the  Spartanburg 
meeting,  at  about  the  usual  hour  of  eleven  o'clock, 
the  boy  brought  the  Washington  papers.  As  Elise 
sat  down  in  the  shadow  of  the  porch  and  unfolded 
The  Post  she  experienced  the  most  acute  sensations 
of  interest  that  had  stirred  her  for  months.  Over  and 
again  she  read  that  Mr.  Rutledge  had  neither  "  the 
honour  nor  the  hope  to  be  engaged  to  "  her. 

After  the  first  surprise,  came  anger.  The  publicity 
was  very  offensive ;  and,  beyond  that,  the  denial  itself 
was  to  be  resented.  As  she  understood  it,  no  gentle 
man  has  the  right  to  deny  an  engagement  to  any  lady 
-  that  was  the  woman's  privilege :  and  for  the  man's 
denial  to  savour  of  meeting  an  accusation  —  unpar 
donable  ! 

But  he  had  said  "  the  honour:  "  oh,  yes,  of  course; 
she  admitted  the  word  was  all  right,  but  at  best  it  was 
such  a  formal  word :  and  it  might  have  been  sarcasm 
—  she  could  hardly  imagine  it  other —  for  had  he  not 
told  her  she  was  unspeakably  false?  If  she  only  could 
have  heard  how  he  said  it!  ...  "Nor  the  hope:" 
worse  still,  he  was  trying  to  purge  himself  of  the  very 
slightest  mental  taint  of  guilt.  It  was  an  utter  repudi 
ation  of  her  —  in  the  face  of  the  mob,  he  had  not  even 
the  hope  —  very  well,  let  it  be  so  —  doubtless  his  polit 
ical  career  and  a  South  Carolina  mob  was  what  he 
had  in  mind  when  he  had  said  to  her,  "  It  is  better 
so."  .  .  .  "Would  account  himself  most  fortunate:" 
oh,  certainly,  Elise  sneered,  make  a  brave  show  of 
gallantry,  but  be  particular  to  have  the  mob  under 
stand  that  you  have  not  even  the  hope  (by  which  it 
will  understand  desire}  —  it  will  be  better  so,  for  the 
politician.  .  .  .  Resentment  possessed  Elise. 


412          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

This  state  of  mind  did  abide  with  her  —  on  through 
luncheon,  and  after.  She  thought  of  little  else. 

As  evening  approached  she  took  Katherine  and 
May  for  a  stroll.  Following  the  roadway  some  little 
distance  toward  the  hotel,  the  three  turned  into  a  well- 
defined  path  leading  up  the  hill  that  robbed  the  cot 
tagers  of  their  sunsets. 

With  an  open  prospect  toward  the  east,  the  Vir 
ginia  Springs  folk  might  have  all  the  glories  of  the 
morning  as  the  free  gift  of  God;  but  to  possess  the 
sunsets  they  must  pay  tribute  of  breath  and  strength 
in  a  climb  of  what  the  low-country  visitors  called  "  the 
mountain."  The  long  ridge  was  really  not  of  mon 
tane  height,  but  was  sufficiently  uplifted  to  stay  the 
feet  of  all  except  such  as  "  in  the  love  of  Nature  hold 
communion  with  her  visible  forms." 

Once  on  top,  however,  —  with  its  broad,  open, 
wind-swept  reaches  rolling  down  to  the  wide  river 
valley  on  the  west  and  southwest,  with  a  sweep  of 
vision  over  the  lower  hills  and  lowlands  to  the  north, 
east  and  south,  and  in  the  west  across  the  river  to  the 
far-lying  mountains  showing  under  the  afternoon  sun 
light  only  their  smoky  heads  indistinct  above  the  white 
haze  that  veiled  the  foothills :  one  had  measurably  the 
sensation  of  standing  on  top  of  the  world.  .  .  .  The 
climb  was  a  favourite  diversion  of  Elise,  and  the  red- 
splashed  and  golden  sunsets  and  the  sense  of  physical 
and  spiritual  uplift,  a  passion  with  her. 

Before  they  reached  the  summit  on  this  summer 
afternoon,  the  little  May  was  sufficiently  exercised, 
and  wished  to  return.  Permitting  her  and  Katherine 
to  go  back  alone,  Elise  climbed  on  to  the  top  of  the  hill, 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          413 

and  sitting  down  in  her  favourite  seat,  looked  steadily 
into  the  west  —  into  the  future  —  into  her  heart.  .  .  . 
Pride  is  inherently  not  a  bad  thing.  Nor  are  its 
works  always  evil.  Elise's  pride  in  her  love  finally 
rebelled  against  her  evil  thinking  of  her  lover.  It  pre 
ferred  to  think  good  of  him,  and  it  began  to  construct 
a  defence  of  him.  .  .  .  First  it  set  up  that  she  had 
refused  him  pointblank,  had  denied  her  own  love,  and 
that  after  such  a  dismissal  she  certainly  could  demand 
from  him  nothing  in  the  way  of  loyalty.  Further, 
before  dismissing  him  she  had  led  him  on  to  hope,  no 
doubt  about  that ;  and  in  the  light  of  her  conduct  his 
denunciation  was  just :  she  had  mocked  him  —  he 
was  justified  in  thinking  she  was  unspeakably  false. 
What  right,  then,  had  she  now  to  demand  of  his  love 
that  it  should  be  loyal,  that  it  should  sacrifice  his 
political  future,  that  it  should  confess  to  a  hope,  —  or 
even  to  a  desire,  if  he  had  so  meant  it?  Her  heart 
admitted  she  was  estopped.  .  .  .  Yet  it  could  not  be 
content  and  dismiss  the  matter  from  her  thinking. 
.  .  .  Had  he  meant  to  deny  desire  in  denying  hope? 
She  asked  herself  the  question.  .  .  .  Could  one  nega 
tive  hope  without  admitting  desire?  ...  Is  there  not 
desire  in  the  dead  as  in  the  living  hope?  Do  not  hope 
and  hopeless  premise  desire?  .  .  .  Elise's  mind  was 
wandering  in  the  maze  of  the  psychology  of  hope, 
when  she  looked  about  to  see  coming  up  toward  her 
the  man. 

Rutledge  caught  a  train  Washington  bound  in 
thirty  minutes  after  reading  Elise's  fragment  of  a 
letter.  He  sent  a  telegram  to  his  campaign  manager, 


414          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

Robertson :  "  I  am  called  north  on  business.  Will 
miss  Greenville  meeting.  Represent  me  there.  It  is 
probable  I  can  make  Laurens  meeting  Tuesday." 

The  hurry  of  his  departure  over,  he  sat  in  the  Pull 
man  and  persuaded  himself  that  he  was  undecided  as 
to  what  he  should  do  and  was  giving  a  judicial  consid 
eration  to  the  advisability  of  marrying  a  woman 
sister-in-law  to  a  negro :  but  the  while  he  thought  he 
was  debating  the  matter  Kale  Lineberger  was  whisk 
ing  the  New  York  and  New  Orleans  Limited  along 
the  curves  of  the  Big  Thicketty  and  across  the  bridges 
of  the  Broad  and  the  Catawba  —  speeding  him  on 
toward  the  girl  —  as  fast  as  an  expert  handling  of 
throttle,  lever  and  "  air "  could  turn  the  driving- 
wheels  of  the  mammoth  "1231  "  and  keep  her  feet 
on  the  rails.  .  .  . 

As  Rutledge  in  the  cool  of  Sunday  morning  stepped 
from  the  rear  sleeper,  Jim  McQueen  climbed  down 
from  the  engine,  oil-can  in  hand. 

"  Well,"  said  Jim,  taking  a  look  at  his  watch, 
"  here's  one  Southern  train  under  a  Washington  shed 
on  time,  —  if  I  do  say  it,  as  shouldn't."  .  .  .  Rut- 
ledge  had  not  lost  ten  seconds  in  his  coming  to  Elise. 

Buying  a  copy  of  The  Mail  from  a  boy,  he  took  a 
cab  to  his  lodgings.  From  habit  he  looked  first  at  the 
editorials.  Turning  then  to  the  first  page  he  saw 
under  a  modest  headline  an  accurate  account  of  the 
yesterday's  episode  at  Spartanburg,  and  his  statement 
that  he  was  not  engaged  to  Miss  Phillips.  He  read 
it  over  a  second  time.  Then,  as  if  by  the  recurrence 
of  a  lapsed  instinct,  unthinkingly  he  turned  the  leaves 
and  was  reading  an  item  on  the  "  society  page." 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  415 

"  Virginia  Springs,  Va.  —  Her  physician  states  that 
Mrs.  Hayne  Phillips  is  recovering  very  slowly  from 
the  effects  of  the  terrible  shock  caused  by  Mr.  Phillips' 
death,  and  will  hardly  be  strong  enough  to  be  removed 
to  her  home  in  Cleveland  before  the  first  of  October." 

Rutledge  had  been  buried  in  South  Carolina  politics 
for  ten  weeks  and  in  that  time  had  not  seen  the  Vir 
ginia  Springs  date-line  sometime  so  familiar  to  him. 
Of  course,  he  thought,  Elise  is  with  her  mother!  and 
from  the  dating-stamp  on  that  letter  he  had  carelessly 
assumed  she  was  in  Washington.  He  turned  back  a 
page  and  glanced  hurriedly  at  a  railroad  time-card, 
then  at  his  watch. 

"  Here,"  he  called  sharply  to  the  cabby,  who  jerked 
up  his  horse,  "  you've  but  three  minutes  to  get  me 
back  to  the  station  —  get  a  move  on !  "  .  .  .  Out  of 
the  cab  through  the  waiting-room  and  at  the  gate  he 
rushed.  The  placid  keeper  barred  the  way. 

"  C.  &  O.  west!  "  snapped  Rutledge. 

"  Gone."  The  gateman  seemed  to  be  thinking  of 
something  else. 

"  How  long  since  ?  " 

"Half  minute.  Lynchburg,  yes,  madam  —  third 
track." 

"  When's  the  next?"  Rutledge  demanded  im 
patiently. 

'''  Three-eighteen.     Don't  block  the  way." 

Desiring  to  avoid  interviews  and  interviewers,  Rut- 
ledge  drove  to  his  sleeping  quarters  and  shut  himself 
in  for  the  seven  or  eight  hours  wait.  His  fever  of 
impatience  had  time  to  rise  and  fall  many  times  be- 


416          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

fore  the  hour  and  minute  of  3:18  came  slowly  and 
grudgingly  to  pass.  He  had  so  desired  to  tell  Elise 
that  he  had  come  without  delay. 

It  was  very  late  in  the  afternoon  when  he  reached 
the  Virginia  Springs  hotel.  He  was  somewhat  un 
decided  how  to  proceed :  whether  to  ask  Elise's  per 
mission  to  call  or  to  present  himself  unannounced, 
whether  to  inquire  of  the  clerk  in  the  crowded  lobby 
the  way  to  the  Phillips'  cottage  or  to  acquire  the  in 
formation  more  quietly.  He  noted  that  not  less  than 
half  a  dozen  men  within  ear-shot  of  the  clerk's  desk 
were  at  the  moment  reading  various  papers  that  had 
Elise's  name  and  his  own  in  display  type  on  their 
front  pages. 

As  he  came  down  from  his  room  after  hurriedly 
making  himself  presentable  he  met  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  Mr.  Sanders,  the  managing  owner  of  The  Mail. 
He  was  surprised,  but  annoyed  more  than  surprised 
—  for  he  must  be  deferential  to  his  chief,  —  and  an 
other  precious  half-hour  was  consumed  in  the  effort 
to  pull  himself  away  without  giving  offence.  His  only 
compensation  for  the  delay  was  in  learning  casually 
from  Mr.  Sanders  where  to  seek  the  Phillips  cottage. 

Finally  shaking  himself  loose,  he  set  out  with  more 
impatience  than  haste  to  find  Elise.  When  he  had 
gotten  beyond  the  eyes  of  the  people  in  the  hotel  he 
put  some  little  speed  into  his  steps.  He  was  striding 
along  rapidly  when  just  in  front  of  him  Katherine 
and  May  Phillips  came  down  out  of  the  hill  path  into 
the  road. 

"  Isn't  this  Katherine  Phillips  ?  "  he  asked,  over 
taking  them. 

"  Yes,"  said  Katherine,  looking  doubtfully  at  him. 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          417 

"  Well,"  said  Rutledge,  hesitating  a  moment,  "  you 
permitted  me  to  shake  hands  with  you  once.  I'm  Mr. 
Rutledge.  Do  you  remember  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Katherine,  though  with  a  shade  of 
uncertainty  in  her  tone. 

"That's  good.     And  who  is  this?" 

"  May,"  said  Katherine. 

"  Why,  certainly.  I  might  have  guessed."  Rut- 
ledge  extended  his  hand  and  the  little  girl  took  it  in 
simple  confidence.  "  And  where  are  you  two  little 
ladies  going,  if  I  may  ask?" 

"  Elise  sent  us  home,"  said  May,  permitting  him 
still  to  hold  her  fingers. 

"And  where  is  she?"  Involuntarily  Rutledge  al 
most  came  to  a  halt  as  he  asked  the  question. 

"  Way  up  on  the  mountain."  May  waved  her  small 
arm  indefinitely  back  the  way  they  had  come.  .  .  . 
Rutledge's  steps  became  slower  and  slower. 

"  Well,  young  ladies,  I'm  glad  to  have  met  you.  I 
must  be  getting  back.  I  suppose  you  can  get  home 
safe." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Katherine.     "  It's  not  far." 

"So?    Well,  good-bye." 

"  Good-bye,"  said  the  little  girls. 

Rutledge's  steps  quickened  as  he  came  to  the  path 
and  turned  hurriedly  up  the  hill. 

Your  woman  of  the  world  is  marvelous  in  her  self- 
possession.  In  a  moment  of  complete  abandon  to 
thoughts  of  her  love  and  her  lover,  Elise  looked  about 
and  saw  the  man  coming  to  her.  With  her  mind  so 
intent  upon  him  that  she  wavered  for  a  moment  in 
doubt  lest  his  appearing  was  an  hallucination,  her 


418          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

manner  of  greeting  him  was  the  perfection  of  indif 
ferent  politeness  —  neither  warm  nor  frosty.. 

"  Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Rutledge.  What  wind  blows 
you  across  the  world  to-day  ?  "  —  she  seemed  to  know 
that  he  was  just  passing  across  the  hill. 

With  her  heart-revealing  letter  in  his  pocket  —  nay 
more,  committed  every  word  to  memory  in  his  heart 
—  Rutledge  was  taken  aback  by  the  casual  way  in 
which  she  spoke  to  him.  He  knew,  of  course,  that 
she  had  not  mailed  him  the  letter  and  was  not  aware 
that  he  had  it;  yet  on  the  basis  of  the  letter  he  had 
conceived  words  he  would  say  to  her  and  she  to  him : 
but  not  a  word  he  had  prepared  was  possible  at  the 
moment. 

"  I  am  —  I   came  —  I   have  an  appointment  with 
Mr.  Sanders,  the  owner  of  The  Mail  —  at  the  hotel  - 
at  half  past  eight."     The  appointment  had  been  made 
ten  minutes  ago.    It  was  the  only  wind  he  could  think 
of  that  was  blowing  him  across  the  world. 

The  man's  confusion  and  seriousness  and  conscien 
tious  statement  of  detail  ordinarily  would  have  amused 
Elise;  but  she  had  not  for  months  been  in  a  mood  to 
be  amused. 

A  moment  later  Rutledge  was  laughing  inwardly  at 
himself,  his  confusion  gone,  his  self-possession  per 
fect.  His  prosaic  accounting  for  his  presence  smoth 
ered  the  tiny  romantic  flame  that  had  kindled  in  Elise's 
bosom,  and  she  in  turn  was  taken  aback :  and  the  man 
saw,  and  knew,  and  laughed  unholily.  Not  even  the 
most  observing  eye,  fairly  limited,  would  have  de 
tected  the  effect  upon  her ;  but  he  had  an  unfair  ad 
vantage  —  for  had  he  not  her  letter  at  that  moment 
snuggled  up  close  to  his  heart? 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          419 

His  laugh  was  not  out-breaking,  but  the  girl  saw 
embarrassment  drop  as  a  cloak  from  his  manner,  and 
a  flicker  of  amusement  in  his  eyes;  and  the  quick 
ness  of  the  change  was  a  bit  bewildering  to  her.  The 
word  upon  her  lips  was  stayed  as  she  looked  steadily 
at  him  as  if  for  an  explanation. 

Rutledge  spoke  first,  —  but  he  did  not  presume 
upon  his  unfair  advantage.  All  the  tenderness  of  his 
soul  was  bowing  before  the  clear-eyed  young  woman 
as  she  stood  there  so  adorable,  swinging  her  black  hat 
in  her  hand,  the  light  hill-breeze  stirring  the  loose 
strands  of  sunlit  hair  about  her  temples  and  the  folds 
of  her  simple  summery  mourning  dress.  If  he  had 
obeyed  the  impulse  he  would  have  knelt  to  kiss  the 
hem  of  that  dress.  Emboldened  by  the  words  of  her 
letter,  he  could  not  even  then  with  unseemly  assurance 
come  to  her  heart  to  possess  it.  Confidently  as  he 
came  to  claim  it,  he  drew  near  to  her  love  as  one 
whose  steps  approach  a  shrine. 

"  It  is  a  very  pleasant  surprise  to  find  you  up  here," 
he  said.  "  And  this  view  is  a  surprise  also  —  a  revela 
tion.  They  did  not  tell  me  at  the  hotel  that  such  an 
one  was  to  be  had  from  this  hill." 

Elise  was  deceived  by  his  words,  and  convinced 
that  the  merest  chance  had  appointed  this  meeting: 
and  yet  she  could  not  dismiss  from  her  mind  the  ques 
tion,  "  Why  did  he  walk  so  straight  at  me  as  he  came 
up  the  hill  ?  "  His  words,  however,  put  the  situation 
on  an  impersonal  basis,  and  her  reply  in  kind  estab 
lished  the  conventional  status. 

They  talked  of  indifferent  things,  and  she  was 
speaking  of  the  splendour  that  was  flaming  in  the 


420          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

west  when  the  man's  impatience  broke  the  bands  he 
had  put  upon  it. 

"  Elise,  I  love  you,  and  I  want  you  to  be  my  wife." 
It  was  abrupt  but  it  was  in  tones  of  humble  entreaty. 

Taken  completely  unawares,  Elise  turned  quickly 
about  from  the  sunset  to  look  at  him.  Her  gray  eyes 
weighed  his  truth  in  the  balance  for  five  seconds.  His 
manner  was  softened  and  natural,  his  face  and  atti 
tude  spoke  love  in  every  line.  Her  eyes  dropped 
before  his,  and  a  rich  colour  came  to  her  throat,  cheek 
and  temple  as  she  turned  again  to  the  golden  west. 

Rutledge  made  a  step  toward  her  as  if  to  take  her. 
Her  hand  went  up  to  stay  him,  though  the  lovelight 
was  on  her  face. 

"  Don't,"  she  said  gently.  She  was  disposed  to 
play  with  her  happiness,  to  hold  him  at  arm's  length. 
"Why  do  you  come  to  me  again,  Mr.  Rutledge? 
You  have  had  my  answer  once,  and  it  must  have  con 
vinced  you."  Her  words  and  her  manner  were  con 
tradictory,  and  Rutledge  was  confused.  "  You  plead 
without  hope.  You  told  the  people  yesterday  that  you 
had  not  even  the  hope  to  be  engaged  to  me.  Why 
pursue  a  hopeless  —  no,  no,  don't !  "  she  again  com 
manded  as,  ignoring  her  words,  he  moved  to  answer 
her  smile. 

"  And  it's  better  so,  Mr.  Rutledge.  You  yourself 
have  said  it ;  and  you  can  hardly  expect  me  to  gainsay 
it." 

Despite  the  smile  on  her  face  this  was  a  shot  that 
went  home,  and  it  put  Rutledge  on  the  defensive. 

"  You  could  hardly  expect  me  to  say  less,  Elise, 
after  your  denial  of  your  love  for  me." 

"My  love  for  you?     Of  all   the  presumption!" 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          421 

Elise  caught  her  breath  at  this  rejoinder,  but  it  only 
gave  zest  to  the  game  and  she  tilted  her  chin  mock 
ingly  at  him. 

Rutledge,  with  some  deliberation,  took  from  an  in 
side  coat  pocket  a  letter,  and  handed  it  to  her.  She 
glanced  at  it  in  astonished  surprise,  and  her  face  went 
hard. 

"  Where  did  you  get  this?  "  she  cried. 

"  In  the  mail,  yesterday  afternoon.  Elise,  I  didn't 
delay  a  moment  in  coming  to  you.  It  came  —  ' 

"  So  this  is  what  brought  you !  " 

"Yes.     I- 

"  And  you  thought  I  sent  it?  "  -her  voice  was  as 
hard  as  her  eyes  were  cold. 

"  No.     But  you  wrote  it,  and  —  ' 

"Did  I?" 

"Didn't  you?" 

"  What  a  question !  —  and  you  came  because  you 
thought  a  lady  called.  Certainly  you  did !  You 
Southerners  are  so  abominably  gallant.  .  .  .  You 
have  acquitted  yourself  very  handsomely,  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge.  I  congratulate  you.  You  have  thoroughly 
vindicated  your  claim  to  the  name  of  '  gentleman ' 
'  Southern  gentleman,'  if  the  term  is  of  more  excel 
lence.  Assuredly  nothing  further  is  required  of  you. 
I  ex—  " 

"  Elise,  you  wrote  that  letter." 

"No." 

"Elise!" 

"  Stop.  Don't  touch  me!  "  —  but  his  left  arm  went 
determinedly  about  her,  and  only  with  both  hands 
could  she  hold  his  right  hand  away. 

"  You  wrote  that  letter,  Elise ;    and  you  love  me." 


422          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

"No  —  never  —  no!"  .  .  .  Her  physical  resist 
ance  seemed  a  match  for  his  strength. 

"  It  is  useless,  Elise,"  he  said  to  her  as  with  tense 
muscles  he  strove  to  subdue  her  will  and  her  wilful 
pride.  "  I  have  always  loved  you,  and  now  that  I 
know  you  love  me  nothing  shall  divide  us.  Why 
should  you  hold  out  against  love?  " 

But  Elise's  resistance  was  fixed  and  set.  Rutledge 
pleaded  and  begged  and  made  love  to  her  with  all 
the  tenderness  of  his  heart  and  the  energy  of  his  pas 
sion  for  her,  and  exerted  his  physical  strength  to 
break  down  her  defence. 

"  Tell  me  that  you  wrote  it,  sweetheart,"  he  im 
plored  and  besought  her  again  and  again :  but  she 
only  shook  her  head  in  dissent.  He  exhausted  every 
prayer  and  plea  without  avail. 

Desperately  resolved  to  win  at  any  cost,  he  could 
only  hold  her  fast  and  swear  in  his  heart  she  should 
not  escape  him.  Finally  he  called  upon  all  his  mus 
cular  power  to  crush  her  into  surrender,  and  merci 
lessly  bore  in  upon  her. 

Elise  bore  out  against  him  with  all  her  strength. 
Her  face  became  first  crimson  and  then  pale  with  the 
effort.  Her  teeth  bit  into  her  lips.  Her  breathing 
became  fast  and  faster.  But  her  will  would  not  bend. 
The  man's  brute  force  was  almost  vicious  in  its  un 
restraint.  A  tear  was  forced  through  her  tight-shut 
lashes,  but  her  chin  was  still  uplifted  in  defiance 
when  — 

"  You  hurt  me,  Evans,"  she  said,  as  her  resist 
ance  collapsed  and  her  face  fell  hidden  against  his 
breast. 

"  And  you  wrote  the  letter,  Elise  ?  "  he  contended, 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          423 

broken-hearted  that  he  had  hurt  her,  but  holding  her 
fiercely  yet. 

"  Yes,  dear;  "  —and  he  is  holding  her  so  tenderly 
now. 

Weakly  she  stood,  held  close  within  his  arms,  until 
her  exhaustion  passed,  while  he  murmured  to  her  the 
gentle  nothings  which  have  been  messengers  of  love 
in  all  ages.  Very  gently  then  she  freed  herself  from 
his  embrace,  permitting  him  still  to  hold  her  fingers. 

"  Let  your  own  lips  tell  me  you  love  me,   Elise." 

She  looked  up  at  him  from  under  drooping  lashes. 
Her  mental  decision  came  before  her  actual  com 
plaisance.  She  revelled  for  a  time  in  the  ecstasy  of 
her  mental  abandon  to  love,  and  trembled  in  the  very 
joy  of  it. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  love  you,"  —  and  with  closing  eyes 
she  lifted  her  face  in  surrender.  A  long,  long  caress 
intoxicates  them,  and  then,  as  if  in  expiation  for  the 
blessed  delirium  of  it  — 

"  But  not  while  Helen  —  not  until  Helen  —  oh,  it 
is  too  horrible  to  wait  for  your  own  sister  to  die!  "  — 
and  she  is  crying  her  heart  out  against  his  shoulder. 

Rutledge  waited  till  her  tears  were  spent,  and  then 
tenderly  he  protested. 

"  But  Elise,  you  will  not  make  any  such  decree  as 
that.  There's  no  need  that  we  should  wait  on  Helen's 
account." 

"  Not  while  she  lives,  not  while  she  lives,"  Elise 
repeated,  looking  into  his  eyes.  "  I  cannot  permit 
your  love  to  bring  you  to  —  " 

"  My  love  is  all-sufficient,  Elise ;  and  all  else  is 
nothing  since  you  love  me.  Do  not  let  your  pride 


424  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

defeat   us    of   our    happiness,    sweetheart.      Already 
it  —  " 

"  Pride?  I  have  no  pride  any  more  for  you,  my 
dear.  I  do  not  conceal  my  heart's  love  nor  its  woes 
from  you.  I  believe  that  love  alone,  not  noblesse, 
brings  you  to  me  now.  I  love  you,  yes,  I  love  you, 
but  my  love  forbids  that  I  should  marry  you  and 
destroy  your  career  and  your  mother's  happiness." 

"  My  mother !    What  do  you  know  of  that?  " 

"  It  is  so,  then !  I  knew  it,  Evans ;  —  prescience, 
I  suppose.  I  am  a  granddaughter  of  South  Carolina, 
you  know.  I  know  in  my  own  heart  what  her  sorrow 
would  be." 

"  No,  no,  Elise,  you  misjudge  my  mother.  She 
would  love  you  as  she  loves  me." 

"  Love  me,  yes  —  as  well  as  even  now  I  love  — 
your  mother.  I  believe  it  and  am  glad,  Evans.  But, 
with  all  her  loving,  she  could  not  put  away  shame  and 
grief.  I  know,  dear,  I  know.  She  would  love  me  and 
—  curse  me." 

"  No,  no,  you  do  not  know.  I  am  willing  to  speak 
for  my  mother.  She  will  —  ' 

"  But  who  can  speak  for  the  voters  in  the  coming 
election?  No,  Evans,  I  must  not!  It  would  defeat 
you.  Your  sacrifice  would  be  too  great !  " 

"  There  would  be  no  sacrifice.  You  are  worth  it 
all  to  me,  dearest  heart  —  and  more.  And  beside, 
I  do  not  think  the  voters  of  my  State  would  —  " 

"  Wait,"  said  Elise.  "  Answer  me  —  and  answer 
me  truly,  for  remember  my  pride  is  gone  and  only 
love  is  in  my  heart.  Will  you  win  the  Senatorship  ?  " 

"  The  prospect  is  quite  alluring,"  the  man  replied. 
"  The  betting  is  2  to  I  that  the  first  primary  will  not 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          425 

elect,  and  9  to  10  that  I  will  defeat  Mr.  Killam  in  the 
second.  Robertson  really  seems  to  be  convinced  that 
I  am  to  succeed." 

"  Oh,  how  good  that  is !  I  pray  for  you  —  but 
would  it  not  cost  you  votes,  maybe  the  election,  to 
marry  me  ?  —  to  be  engaged  to  me,  even  ?  Do  not 
deceive  me.  Have  you  not  thought  of  the  hurt  it 
would  do  your  chance  of  success  ?  Truth  and  honour, 
now,  —  as  I  love  you." 

In  the  face  of  that  sacred  obligation  Rutledge  hesi 
tated  an  instant. 

"  Thought  of  it,  yes,"  he  said  at  last,  "  but  —  " 

"  Then  the  danger  is  something  considerable.  I 
knew  it.  My  letter's  coming  was  untimely,  thanks  to 
the  unknown  person  who  mailed  it  to  you.  No,  my 
dear,  I  will  not  marry  you.  I  will  not  engage  myself 
to  you.  I  will  not  defeat  you." 

Rutledge  gathered  her  to  himself  again,  confident 
to  crush  her  opposition  by  brute  mastery  as  before. 
But  there  was  no  physical  opposition  to  be  mastered 
now. 

"  It  is  useless,"  she  said  wearily.  "  I  love  you  too 
much  to  marry  you  now,  Evans." 

"  Now  ? "  repeated  Rutledge.  "  If  not  now, 
when?" 

"  Or  to  engage  myself  to  you." 

Her  impassive  manner  was  tantalizingly  irritating  to 
him  as  he  laid  under  tribute  every  resource  of  his 
mind  and  heart  to  overturn  her  decision.  Her  non- 
resisting  resistance  was  proof  against  attack.  It  was 
like  fighting  a  fog.  Seemingly  it  offered  no  opposi 
tion,  and  yet  when  he  had  exhausted  himself  in  at 
tempts  to  brush  it  aside,  it  was  there,  filling  all  space. 


426          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

"  No,  no !  "  she  cried  out  at  last,  thoroughly 
aroused  by  his  passionate  plea  for  their  happiness; 
"  go !  it  is  sinful  even  to  dream  of  being  happy  while 
one's  sister  is  so  wretched  —  and  I  will  not  have  your 
blood  upon  my  hands  —  nor  your  mother's  curse  upon 
me!" 

Rutledge  gazed  steadily  at  her  a  few  moments,  — 
and  for  an  answer  drew  out  his  watch  to  see  what  the 
hour  was. 

"  Kiss  me  good-bye,"  she  said,  holding  her  lips  up, 
to  him  simply  as  a  child. 

Taking  her  hands  and  drawing  them  to  his  heart  he 
bent  his  head  down  to  hers  as  reverently  as  if  that 
gentle,  lingering  kiss  were  a  sacrament.  Turning 
away,  he  went  swiftly  down  the  path  he  had  come. 

Elise  sat  down  upon  the  boulder  from  which  she 
had  risen  at  his  coming.  With  her  arms  clasping  her 
knees,  her  head  was  bowed  above  them,  and  her 
shoulders  drooped  in  abject  hopelessness. 

Looking  up  at  the  sound  of  his  steps  returning,  she 
half  turns  to  motion  him  away. 

"  No,  no.  It  means  only  that  I  no  longer  dissemble 
before  you.  Go.  There  is  no  hope."  And  as  he 
obeys  she  settles  back  motionless  again  into  that  living 
statue  of  Despair. 

When  Mrs.  Hazard  read  in  that  Sunday's  paper 
an  account  of  the  Spartanburg  meeting  she  was  dis 
mayed.  She  had  been  on  the  qui  vive  for  nearly  a 
week,  though  not  looking  to  the  newspapers  for  in 
formation.  Rutledge's  repudiation  of  Elise  angered 
her. 

Monday's    papers,    however,    brought    her    better 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          427 

temper.  She  laughed  softly  as  she  read  among  the 
Virginia  Springs  items  that  Mr.  Rutledge  had  arrived 
there  on  Sunday  afternoon.  She  was  somewhat  mys 
tified,  though,  by  the  fact  that  Mr.  Rutledge  had  been 
so  hopeless  on  Saturday  afternoon,  —  and  she  was 
struck  with  consternation  when  at  last  she  happened 
upon  a  local  item  which  said  Mr.  Rutledge  had  passed 
through  the  city  Sunday  night  on  his  return  to  South 
Carolina. 

"I  think  she  might  have  written  me!"  she  said 
when  Monday's  noon  mail  brought  no  letter  from  her 
friend. 

"  I'm  going  to  run  over  to  see  Elise  this  afternoon, 
if  I  can  catch  the  train,"  she  told  her  husband  at 
luncheon;  and  at  3  :i8  she  was  on  the  way.  A  wreck 
ahead  of  them  put  her  at  the  Virginia  Springs  hotel 
about  bed-time. 

"  How  did  you  get  here?  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you !  " 
Elise  exclaimed  when  Lola  appeared  at  the  cottage 
next  morning. 

"  Came  last  night,"  Lola  said,  giving  her  a  hug, 
"  but  a  miserable  wreck  held  us  up  till  long  after  dark. 
I  would  have  come  directly  here  even  then,  but  I  did 
not  know  how  your  mother  was." 

"  She  is  much  better,"  Elise  said.  "  Come  right  in 
to  see  her." 

Lola  loved  Mrs.  Phillips  very  heartily,  but  she  felt 
that  Elise  was  precipitate  in  taking  her  immediately 
to  her  mother's  room.  She  went  along,  of  course,  and 
sat  down  and  talked  to  the  two  of  them  for  an  hour 
or  more.  There  seemed  to  be  no  end  to  the  things 
they  discussed,  —  the  more  interminable  they  were 


428          THE    CALL   OF    THE    SOUTH 

because  of  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Hazard  had  not  made 
her  journey  for  the  pleasure  of  a  general  conversation. 

She  could  not  understand  why  Elise  did  this  thing. 
She  tried  to  read  the  young  lady's  reason  in  her  face, 
but  that  told  nothing.  It  had  not  the  elation  that  be 
spoke  a  heart  joyous  in  its  love.  Neither,  in  the  con 
ventional  gayety  of  the  three-cornered  conversation, 
did  it  betray  a  heart  that  was  desolate.  The  only 
thing  certain  was  Elise's  evident  avoidance  of  a  tete-a- 
tete  with  her  best  friend. 

It  came  to  pass  Mrs.  Phillips  had  to  dismiss  them 
on  the  plea  of  exhaustion.  Lola  apologized  profusely. 
Elise  felt  guilty,  but  she  asked  for  no  pardon. 

The  young  women  went  out  on  the  broad  veranda. 
Elise  offered  Lola  the  hammock;  but  Mrs.  Hazard 
was  unconsciously  too  intent  upon  a  present  purpose 
to  assume  such  a  purposeless  attitude.  She  took  a 
rocking-chair,  but  she  did  not  rock.  As  Elise  ar 
ranged  herself  in  the  hammock,  her  friend  bethought 
herself  as  to  how  she  should  begin  her  inquiries.  She 
thought  best  not  to  display  too  minute  an  acquaint 
ance  with  the  situation. 

Elise  had  indeed  some  curiosity  to  know  how  Rut- 
ledge  had  come  into  possession  of  the  letter,  and  be 
lieved  that  Lola  could  throw  light  on  that  matter. 
But  to  ask  about  it  was  too  much  like  opening  the 
grave  of  love :  and  she  recoiled.  Looking  at  her  face 
in  repose,  Lola  was  convinced  that  things  had  gone 
wrong.  This  made  her  take  the  more  thought  for  an 
opening. 

In  the  hush  before  the  talk  would  begin,  the  boy 
brought  the  morning's  paper.  Lola,  seated  nearest 
the  steps,  took  it  from  his  hand.  She  did  not  have  to 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  429 

unfold  it  to  read  what  was  of  supreme  interest.  As 
she  read,  her  eyes  danced.  Half  finished,  she  glanced 
from  the  paper  to  Elise,  whose  face  was  apathy 
clothed  in  flesh.  Lola  sought  the  paper  again,  feeling 
that  the  spooks  were  playing  a  trick  upon  her.  It  was 
very  plain  reading,  however.  She  crushed  the  paper 
in  her  lap,  and  studied  the  profile  of  the  girl  in  the 
hammock. 

"  Elise !  "  she  called,  still  feeling  that  the  spooks 
had  her. 

Elise  slowly  turned  toward  her  a  listless  face,  — 
wrhich,   indeed,   took  on   some  life  at  sight  of  Mrs. 
Hazard's  excitement. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Oh,  full  of  all  guile  and  subtlety!"  Lola  ex 
claimed  with  a  gasp.  "  Well,  I  have  never!  " 

Elise  looked  at  her  inquiringly. 

"  Listen,  miss ;    while  I  read  you  the  news." 

Lola  picked  up  the  paper  and  took  time  to  smooth 
out  its  wrinkles. 

"  Don't  be  impatient,  my  lady.  .  .  .  Now.  Here 
is  the  paragraph.  It  is  part  of  a  special  despatch  from 
Greenville,  South  Carolina.  You  have  no  idea  where 
that  is,  of  course ;  but  listen : 

"  Ex-Senator  Rutledge  spoke  last.  He  had  just 
arrived  from  Washington,  unexpectedly,  on  a  delayed 
train,  and  had  not  had  time  to  brush  the  coal-dust 
from  his  clothes.  He  made  the  usual  forcible  speech 
with  which  he  has  dignified  the  campaign.  At  the 
end  of  it  he  said :  '  My  fellow  countrymen,  I  must  be 
honest  and  candid  with  you.  At  the  Spartanburg 
meeting  day  before  yesterday,  in  answer  to  the  ques 
tion  of  a  disreputable  dog,  I  said  that  I  had  neither 


430          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

the  honour  nor  the  hope  to  be  engaged  to  the  eldest 
daughter  of  the  late  President  Phillips.  That  was  the 
exact  truth,  my  countrymen.  To-day  I  tell  you  that 
I  do  have  the  happiness  to  be  engaged  to  Miss  Elise 
Phillips  and  that  we  will  be  married  on  the  last  Thurs 
day  in  next  March.'  ' 

There  was  no  apathy  in  Elise's  profile  when  Lola 
looked  up  from  her  reading.  The  girl  had  covered  her 
face  with  her  hands,  and  flood  upon  flood  of  colour 
was  racing  over  it. 

"  Is  that  '  the  exact  truth,  my  countrymen?  '  "  Lola 
demanded,  standing  over  the  hammock. 

"Yes,"  Elise  said,  "why  not?"  —  and  Lola 
grabbed  her  with  a  joyful  shout. 

'"  Don't  make  such  a  fuss,"  Elise  sputtered  from 
out  the  smother  of  Mrs.  Hazard's  kisses,  "  for  I 
haven't  told  mamma  yet." 

"  —  And  look  here,"  a  radiant  Elise  demanded 
when  the  two  of  them  had  become  somewhat  com 
posed,  "  I  want  to  know  how  it  came  about  that  a 
letter  I  wrote  and  burned  should  have  —  " 

"  Stop,  stop,  honey ;  I  will  not  answer.  .  .  .  But 
I  do  think  it  is  a  very  bad  Samaritan  who  will  not  help 
Dan  Cupid  when  he's  in  trouble." 


CHAPTER    XLI 

THE  communications  between  Hayward  Graham 
and  the  physician  in  charge  of  the  private  hospital  in 
which  Helen  was  detained  had  become  caustic.  So 
much  so,  that  the  great  specialist  had  asked  Graham 
to  remove  her  from  his  care.  This  Hayward  was 
unable  to  do.  Mrs.  Phillips  was  paying  the  hospital 
fees  and  expenses,  and  Hayward  felt  that  he  could  not 
keep  his  wife  in  proper  and  befitting  manner  even  if 
she  were  altogether  sane  and  sound  in  health.  He 
had  no  means  with  which  properly  to  provide  for  her 
if  she  was  really  in  such  a  condition  as  the  physician 
declared. 

Not  being  willing  or  able  to  assume  responsibility 
for  her  removal,  he  was  all  the  more  angered  at  what 
he  believed  to  be  the  eminent  alienist's  positive  mis 
representation  of  the  gravity  of  Helen's  ailment  and 
his  unwarranted  and  cavalier  treatment  of  him,  her 
husband.  Provoked  beyond  endurance  he  went  at 
last  to  the  hospital. 

"Mr.  Hayward  Graham?  Yes.  Well,  come  right 
into  my  office.  Now,  what  may  I  do  for  you?  " 

"  Your  last  letter  about  my  wife,  doctor,  was  very 
unsatisfactory,"  said  Hayward,  "  and  I  came  to  see 
about  it.  Surely  she  cannot  be  so  ill  as  you  report. 
When  you  admitted  her  you  said  she  would  recover 
her  health  in  a  very  short  time." 

431 


432          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

"  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Graham ;  but  if  you  wish  to  take 
issue  with  me  as  to  your  wife's  condition,  I  will  have 
to  insist  on  the  request  in  my  letter  of  yesterday  - 
that  you  remove  her  at  once,"  the  physician  said  with 
decision. 

"  I  do  not  desire  to  do  that,"  Graham  replied;  "  but 
I  cannot  understand  what  has  happened  here  to  change 
her  prospects  of  recovery,  of  which  you  were  so  con 
fident  when  you  admitted  her.  Besides  that  I  do  not 
see  why  you  forbid  me  to  communicate  with  her.  She 
is  certa — ' 

"  Wait  a  moment,  Mr.  Graham.  You  must  under 
stand  that  in  our  pre judgment  of  these  cases  we  do 
not  arrogate  to  ourselves  infallibility;  but  that  in  our 
treatment  of  them  we  do  demand  for  ourselves  abso 
lute  authority  to  say  what  shall  and  what  shall  not  be 
done,  and  the  very  strictest  obedience  to  that.  This 
is  a  very  peculiar  case.  It  has  one  element  that  is  al 
together  unique.  Never  before  have  I  met  it  in  my 
practice  or  seen  it  in  the  books.  I  am  doing  the  best 
I  can  with  it,  and  if  you  do  not  de —  " 

"  That  is  not  it,  doctor.  I  have  no  suggestions  to 
make  to  you  as  to  the  proper  treatment,  nor  any  ob 
jection,  indeed,  to  complying  with  any  reasonable 
restriction;  but  when  you  say  that  I  shall  not  see  or 
communicate  with  my  wife  at  any  time,  it  seems  un 
reasonable.  Does  she  have  no  lucid  intervals  in  which 
I  might  see  her?  Does  she  never  think  or  speak  of 
me  —  never  write  to  me?" 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Graham,  she  has  lucid  intervals.  She 
speaks  of  you  at  times,  oftentimes.  And  she  writes 
to  you  occasionally,  but  I  have  decided  that  it  would 
not  —  " 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  433 

"  Has  written  to  me  ?  And  you  have  not  sent  me 
the  letters?  Surely,  surely,  doctor,  I  am  not  crazy, 
that  you  should  withhold  letters  from  me !  Have  you 
the  letters  ?  Has  she  written  often  ?  " 

"  She  has  written  often ;  but  only  on  two  occasions 
was  there  anything  except  disjointed  sentences. 
She- 

"  And  when  was  that?  And  where  are  the  letters?  " 

"  I  have  them/'  replied  the  doctor,  "  but  I  do  not 
think  that  —  " 

"  I  demand  to  see  them,  sir!  I'm  not  in  your  hos 
pital  for  treatment!" 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  doctor,  "  I'll  get  them  for 
you." 

He  went  to  a  filing  cabinet  and  took  out  a  package 
of  papers  and  came  back  across  the  room  with  two 
sheets  of  paper  which  he  handed  to  Hayward,  and 
watched  him  as  he  read  them. 

The  first  was  as  sweet  and  gentle  and  loving  a 
letter  as  the  heart  of  man  could  desire.  Some  of 
the  references  in  it  were  a  little  bit  obscure  and  in 
accurate,  but  Hayward  was  too  much  elated  with  the 
tender,  petting  things  it  said  to  notice  trifles  so  in 
consequential.  He  revelled  in  it  like  a  hungry  man 
at  a  feast.  He  gulped  down  its  sweetness  ravenously : 
and  took  the  second.  What!  The  first  sentence  was 
the  jab  of  a  misshapen  barb  —  and  every  following 
sentence  a  twisting  of  that  barb  in  the  flesh. 

"  My  God,  this  is  awful !  "  he  groaned.  "  I  am 
sorry  you  gave  it  to  me.  Have  you  no  other  like  the 
first?" 

"  No,"  said  the  doctor.     "  All  her  other  writings 


434  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

have  been  mere  scraps  or  incoherent  mixtures  of  such 
things  as  are  in  the  first  letter  you  have  there  with 
such  as  are  in  the  one  you  have  just  read.  These  are 
the  only  ones  in  each  of  which  her  mood  was  fixed 
and  distinct." 

Hayward  took  the  first  letter  and  read  it  over  again 
as  hungrily  as  at  first. 

"In  which  mood  does  she  seem  most  to  be?"  he 
asked. 

"  In  the  mood  to  write  that  first  letter,  fortunately ; 
but  the  case  is  peculiar  in  that  very  fact.  I  have 
studied  it  with  —  " 

"  Let  me  see  her,"  Hayward  broke  in.  "  May  I 
see  her?  I  must  see  her!  " 

"  I  would  advise  against  it,"  the  doctor  said,  in  a 
tone  and  manner  that  was  intended  to  be  a  polite 
refusal  of  permission. 

"  But  I  must  see  her,  I  tell  you.  I  demand  to  see 
her!  I  am  her  husband,  and  if  she  is  quiet  to-day  I 
demand  to  see  and  speak  to  her." 

"  Mr.  Graham,  this  case  is  unique,  as  I  have  told 
you  before;  and  even  if  she  is  quiet  I  think  it  best 
not  to  —  " 

"  Now,  doctor,  stop  right  there  a  moment.  She  is 
my  wife,  and  I  will  not  be  bound  by  any  orders  her 
mother  may  have  given  you!  I  am  going  to  see  her 
-  this  once.  I  assume  all  responsibility,  sir !  " 

The  physician  looked  at  him  with  a  sneer  of  con 
tempt  on  his  face. 

"  Very  well,  Mr.  Graham,"  he  said  finally.  "  You 
shall  see  her.  But  permit  me  to  say  that  Mrs.  Phillips 
has  had  the  good  sense  and  the  good  taste  to  make 
no  suggestions  to  me  as  to  how  I  shall  manage  this 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH          435 

case.  .  .  .  Come  right  along  down  to  the  ward, 
sir." 

He  led  the  way  down  a  long  hall  and,  tapping  upon 
a  door,  was  admitted  into  a  transverse  corridor  by  an 
attendant. 

"How  is  Mrs.  Graham?"  he  asked  in  an  under 
tone. 

"  Quiet  at  the  moment,  sir." 

Hayward  heard  Helen's  voice  and  started  forward 
eagerly.  The  physician  caught  him  by  the  arm  and 
restrained  him. 

"  Wait,"  he  whispered.     "  Let's  listen  a  minute." 

It  was  hard  for  Hayward  to  wait.  He  could  hear 
Helen's  words  coming  from  the  second  door  down  the 
corridor,  and  only  the  doctor's  hand  stayed  him  from 
rushing  into  her  presence.  They  moved  quietly  nearer 
to  the  door  and  stood  still  to  hear  what  she  was  say 
ing.  As  they  listened  tides  of  joy  rolled  in  upon  Hay- 
ward's  heart.  .  .  . 

Helen  was  humming  a  song  that  her  husband  had 
heard  of  old.  Her  voice,  though  somewhat  weak, 
had  its  old  joyous  ring.  Hayward  could  easily  imag 
ine  she  was  coming  tripping  down  to  the  stable  for 
her  horse  to  take  a  morning  canter.  When  she  fin 
ished  the  song  and  was  silent,  he  noted  for  the  first 
time  that  the  grated  door  to  her  cell  was  locked  and 
its  rungs  and  pickets  were  heavily  padded.  He  re 
sented  that,  and  turned  upon  the  physician  to  protest, 
but  was  held  by  the  doctor's  signal  for  silence.  He 
obeyed,  but  his  resentment  grew  as  Helen's  words 
came  again  in  gentle  accents  to  them. 

She  was  moving  slowly  about,  and  was  evidently 
arranging  some  flowers  —  to  judge  by  the  things  she 


436          THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

was  saying  to  them.  It  was  very  kind  of  the  doctor, 
her  husband  thought,  to  let  her  have  her  flowers  — 
she  was  always  so  fond  of  them.  ...  In  half  a 
minute  she  was  singing  a  lullaby  that  she  had  sung  to 
their  baby.  Hayward  could  hardly  contain  himself. 
And  when  he  heard  her  walk  across  the  room,  —  to 
a  window,  it  seemed,  —  and  say,  in  a  tone  so  express 
ive  of  longing:  "If  Hayward  would  only  come  and 
take  me  out  to-day!  It  is  such  a  beautiful  day  out 
side,"  he  snatched  his  arm  free  of  the  doctor's  hand 
and  called  to  her  as  he  sprang  in  front  of  the  door. 

Helen  turned  at  his  call,  and  looked  at  him  for  a 
space  with  dilated  eyes.  In  that  space  Hayward  saw 
that  her  cell  was  padded  throughout,  floor  and  walls, 
and  that  there  was  not  a  flower  or  a  flower-pot  in  the 
room,  that  her  clothing  was  torn,  her  hair  streaming 
and  dishevelled.  Before  he  had  time  to  make  any  in 
ferences  from  these  facts,  Helen,  still  gazing  at  him 
with  that  peculiar  stare,  started  across  the  room  to 
him,  saying  gladly,  "  Oh,  you  have  come  to  take  me 
out  driving !  " 

Nearly  to  the  door  she  stopped.  Slowly  her  face 
changed  its  whole  expression.  The  wide-eyed  stare 
gave  way,  and  the  old  Helen  looked  at  him  a  moment 
from  her  eyes.  In  another  moment  her  face  was  con 
vulsed  in  a  spasm  of  aversion. 

"  Go  away !  Go  away !  "  she  cried  out  wildly  as  she 
turned  from  him.  Retreating  into  a  far  corner  of  her 
cell,  she  called  to  the  attendant,  "  Oh,  save  me !  — 
take  him  away!  —  keep  him  away!" 

"Why,  Helen,  don't  you  know  me?"  Hayward 
called  to  her. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know  you,  but  in  God's  name  leave 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  437 

me !  Don't  let  him  in !  Don't  let  him  in !  "  she 
pleaded  with  the  physician,  who  also  had  come  to  the 
door. 

"  I'll  not  hurt  you,  Helen.  You  know  I'll  not  hurt 
you.  Don't  run  from  me.  You  know  I'll  not  hurt 
you." 

Hayward  motioned  to  the  physician  to  unlock  the 
door.  Whereupon  Helen  uttered  a  blood-curdling 
scream  as  she  cowered  back  into  her  corner. 

"  Don't !  Don't ! !  He  has  already  hurt  me,  doc 
tor!  Go  away!  Go  away!  The  poison  of  your  blood 
is  in  my  veins  and  will  not  come  out!  It  is  polluted, 
for  ever  polluted !  A  knife  —  a  knife!  Give  me  a 
knife,  doctor,  that  I  may  let  it  out.  Please  give  me 
a  knife.  I  have  prayed  you  daily  for  one  and  you  won't 
give  it  to  me.  Kill  me  —  save  me!  My  blood  is  un 
clean,  and  he  did  it!  My  baby  was  black,  black! — • 
and  its  negro  blood  is  in  my  veins!  A  knife,  doctor! 
A  knife!!  Oo-o-a-ugh!!  I'll  tear  it  out,  then!"  — 
and  she  clawed  and  tore  and  bit  at  her  wrists  in  an 
agony  of  endeavour  to  purge  her  veins  of  the  tainted 
fluid  which  had  brought  to  life  that  fright,  her  baby. 

Hayward  stood  helpless  and  terror-stricken  before 
the  door,  and  his  staying  only  drove  Helen  into  more 
horrible  paroxysms. 

"  Come  away,  man,  come  away,"  the  doctor  com 
manded;  and  he  obeyed  weakly. 

"  Great  God,"  he  said  when  he  was  back  in  the 
physician's  office,  "  that  is  awful,  awful !  How  can 
she  live,  doctor,  if  she  is  shaken  and  torn  by  such 
dementia  as  that  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  say  whether  she  will  live,  Mr.  Graham," 
the  doctor  replied;  "but  her  periods  of  dementia  give 


438  THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH 

her  the  only  relief  that  she  enjoys.  As  a  remedy  for 
exhaustion  they  are  our  only  hope  for  her  life  so  far 
appearing." 

"  I  don't  understand,"  said  Graham,  "  how  such 
suffering  as  that  can  be  a  relief  from  exhaustion." 

"  I  did  not  say  that,"  said  the  doctor.  "  I  said  her 
periods  of  dementia  give  her  relief  from  exhaustion. 
As  I  said  before,  Mr.  Graham,  this  is  an  absolutely 
unique  case.  It  is  — 

"Unique  in  what?"  asked  Graham. 

"  It  is  unique  in  this,"  said  the  physician :  "  It  is 
in  her  sane  moments  —  in  her  lucid  intervals,  when 
she  is  fully  conscious  of  her  condition  and  situation  — 
that  she  raves  and  tears  herself  and  cries  out  against 
the  devils  that  are  torturing  her.  It  is  in  such  mo 
ments  that  her  eyes  have  the  light  of  reason  in  them. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  is  when  she  is  insane,  demented 

—  when  her  mind  is  unhinged  and  wandering  —  that 
she  is  quiet  and  peaceful  and  happy.     The  letter  you 
enjoyed  was  written  when  she  was  crazy.     The  one 
that  tortured  you  was  written  when  she  was  clothed 
and  in  her  right  mind." 

"  My  God,  doctor,  that  cannot  be !  Do  not  tell  me 
that !  "  cried  Hayward,  shaken  like  a  reed.  "  Tell 
me  whether  there  is  hope  for  her?  " 

"  As  I  said,  Mr.  Graham,  the  case  is  unique  and 
therefore  any  opinion  is  nothing  more  than  a  bare 
opinion,  but  to  me  her  case  is  hopeless  for  the  reason 
that  her  violences  are  based  not  upon  hallucinations 

—  which  might  pass  —  but  upon  facts  which  no  sane 
mind  can  deny.     At  present  the  only  hope  for  her  life 
is  that  her  periods  of  dementia,  with  their  peace  and 
quiet,  will  increase:    and  that  her  sane  moments,  in 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SOUTH  439 

which  she  suffers  the  tortures  of  the  damned,  will  be 
come  briefer  and  fewer.  Only  that  will  save  her  from 
death  from  exhaustion." 

"  No,  no,  doctor !    Can't  you  —  " 

A  soldier  in  uniform  stepped  into  the  recruiting 
office,  saluted,  handed  the  officer  his  papers,  and  stood 
at  attention,  saying  simply,  "  I  desire  to  re-enlist." 

The  officer  unfolded  the  "  honourable  discharge  " 
and  read  aloud,  "  Sergeant  John  Hayward  Graham." 
Looking  the  paper  over,  he  turned  to  Graham. 

*'  Yes,  this  is  all  right  —  if  you  are  physically  fit; 
but  you  have  waited  so  long  you  have  lost  your  rank 
and  will  have  to  begin  at  the  very  bottom  again." 

"  Yes,  sir.     I  understand,  sir." 

"  Very  well,  the  clerk  can  make  out  the  new  papers 
from  these  while  the  surgeon  looks  you  over.  Where 
do  you  wish  to  serve  —  in  the  United  States  or  the 
Philippines  ?  " 

"  Anywhere  my  country  needs  a  man,  sir." 


THE    END. 


Announcement  iUst 

of  $&te>  fiction 


Haunters  of  the  Silences.    BY  CHARLES  G. 

D.  ROBERTS,  author  of  "  Red  Fox,"  "  The  Watchers  of 
the  Trails,"  etc. 

Cloth,  one  volume,  with  many  drawings  by  Charles  Liv 
ingston  Bull,  four  of  which  are  in  full  color      .     $2.00 

The  stories  in  Mr.  Roberts's  new  collection  are  the  strong 
est  and  best  he  has  ever  written. 

He  has  largely  taken  for  his  subjects  those  animals  rarely 
met  with  in  books,  whose  lives  are  spent  "  In  the  Silences," 
where  they  are  the  supreme  rulers.  Mr.  Roberts  has  writ 
ten  of  them  sympathetically,  as  always,  but  with  fine  regard 
for  the  scientific  truth. 

"  As  a  writer  about  animals,  Mr.  Roberts  occupies  an  enviable 
place.  He  is  the  most  literary,  as  well  as  the  most  imaginative 
and  vivid  of  all  the  nature  writers."  —  Brooklyn  Eagle. 

"  His  animal  stories  are  marvels  of  sympathetic  science  and 
literary  exactness."  —  New  York  World. 

I 


L.    C.   PAGE   AND  COMPANY'S 


The    Lady  of   the    Blue    Motor.      By 

G.  SIDNEY  PATERNOSTER,  author  of  "  The   Cruise  of 
the  Motor-Boat  Conqueror,"  "  The  Motor  Pirate,"  etc. 

Cloth  decorative,  with  a  colored  frontispiece  by  John  C. 
Frohn $1-50 

The  Lady  of  the  Blue  Motor  is  an  audacious  heroine 
who  drove  her  mysterious  car  at  breakneck  speed.  Her 
plea  for  assistance  in  an  adventure  promising  more  than  a 
spice  of  danger  could  not  of  course  be  disregarded  by  any 
gallant  fellow  motorist.  Mr.  Paternoster's  hero  ross 
promptly  to  the  occasion.  Across  France  they  tore  and 
across  the  English  Channel.  There,  the  escapade  past,  he 
lost  her. 

Mr.  Paternoster,  however,  is  generous,  and  allows  the 
reader  to  follow  their  separate  adventures  until  the  Lady  of 
the  Blue  Motor  is  found  again  and  properly  vindicated  of 
all  save  womanly  courage  and  affection.  A  unique  ro 
mance,  one  continuous  exciting  series  of  adventure. 

Clementina's  Highwayman.    By  ROBERT 

NEILSON  STEPHENS,  author  of  "  The  Flight  of  Geor- 
giana,"  "  An  Enemy  to  the  King,"  etc. 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated          .         .         .         .     $1.50 

Mr.  Stephens  has  put  into  his  new  book,  "  Clementina's 
Highwayman,"  the  finest  qualities  of  plot,  construction,  and 
literary  finish. 

The  story  is  laid  in  the  mid-Georgian  period.  It  is  a 
dashing,  sparkling,  vivacious  comedy,  with  a  heroine  as 
lovely  and  changeable  as  an  April  day,  and  a  hero  all  ardor 
and  daring. 

The  exquisite  quality  of  Mr.  Stepnens's  literary  style 
clothes  the  story  in  a  rich  but  delicate  word-fabric  ;  and 
never  before  have  his  setting  and  atmosphere  been  so 
p  erf  ect. 


LIST  OF  NEW  FICTION 


The  Sorceress  Of  Rome.      By  NATHAN   GAL- 
LIZIER,  author  of  "  Castel  del  Monte,"  etc. 
Cloth  decorative,  illustrated          .         .         .         .     $1.50 

The  love-story  of  Otto  III.,  the  boy  emperor,  and  Ste- 
phania,  wife  of  the  Senator  Crescentius  of  Rome,  has 
already  been  made  the  basis  of  various  German  poems  and 
plays. 

Mr.  Gallizier  has  used  it  for  the  main  theme  of  "The 
Sorceress  of  Rome,"  the  second  book  of  his  trilogy  of 
romances  on  the  mediaeval  life  of  Italy.  In  detail  and 
finish  the  book  is  a  brilliant  piece  of  work,  describing 
clearly  an  exciting  and  strenuous  period.  It  possesses  the 
same  qualities  as  "  Castel  del  Monte,"  of  which  the  Chicago 
Record  Herald  said  :  "  There  is  color,  there  is  sumptuous 
word-painting  in  these  pages;  the  action  is  terrific  at  times; 
vividness  and  life  are  in  every  part;  brilliant  descriptions 
entertain  the  reader ;  mystic  scenes  and  prophecies  give  a 
singular  fascination  to  the  tale,  which  is  strong  and  force 
ful  in  its  portrayal." 


Hester  Of  the    Hills.      By  GROVER  CLAY. 
Cloth  decorative,  illustrated          ....     $1.50 

"  Hester  of  the  Hills  "  has  a  motif  unusual  in  life,  and 
new  in  fiction.  Its  hero,  who  has  only  acquired  his  own 
strength  and  resourcefulness  by  a  lifelong  struggle  against 
constitutional  frailty,  has  come  to  make  the  question  of 
bodily  soundness  his  dominant  thought.  He  resolves  to 
ensure  strong  constitutions  to  his  children  by  marrying  a 
physically  perfect  woman.  After  long  search,  he  finds  this 
ideal  in  Hester,  the  daughter  of  a  "  cracker  squatter,"  of 
the  Ozark  Mountains  of  Missouri.  But,  —  he  forgot  to 
take  into  consideration  that  very  vital  emotion,  love,  which 
played  havoc  with  his  well-laid  plans. 

It  is  an  ingenious  combination  of  practical  realism  and 
imaginative  fiction  worked  out  to  a  thoroughly  delightful 
and  satisfying  climax. 


L.    C.   PAGE   AND    COMPANY'S 


Prisoners  Of  Fortune.  A  TALE  OF  THE  MASSA 
CHUSETTS  BAY  COLONY.  BY  RUEL  PERLEY  SMITH, 
author  of  "  The  Rival  Campers,"  etc. 

Cloth  decorative,  with  a  colored  frontispiece  by  Frank  T. 
Merrill $1-50 

The  period  of  Mr.  Smith's  story  is  the  beginning  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  when  the  shores  of  the  American  col 
onies  were  harassed  and  the  seas  patrolled  by  pirates  and 
buccaneers.  These  robbed  and  spoiled,  an<i  often  seized 
and  put  to  death,  the  sailors  and  fishers  ant  other  humbler 
folk,  while  their  leaders  claimed  friendship  a/ike  with  South 
ern  planters  and  New  England  merchants,  —  with  whom 
it  is  said  they  frequently  divided  their  spoils. 

The  times  were  stern  and  the  colonists  were  hardy,  but 
they  loved  as  truly  and  tenderly  as  in  more  peaceful  days. 
Thus,  while  the  hero's  adventures  with  pirates  and  his  search 
for  their  hidden  treasure  is  a  record  of  desperate  encounters 
and  daring  deeds,  his  love-story  and  his  winning  of  sweet 
Mary  Vane  is  in  delightful  contrast. 


The  Rome  Express.     BY  MAJOR  ARTHUR  GRIF 
FITHS,  author  of  "  The  Passenger  from  Calais,"  etc. 

Cloth  decorative,  with  a  colored  frontispiece  by  A.  O. 
Scott $1.25 

A  mysterious  murder  on  a  flying  express  train,  a  wily 
Italian,  a  charming  woman  caught  in  the  meshes  of  circum 
stantial  evidence,  a  chivalrous  Englishman,  and  a  police 
force  with  a  keen  nose  for  the  wrong  clue,  are  the  ingredi 
ents  from  which  Major  Griffiths  has  concocted  a  clever,  up- 
to-date  detective  story.  The  book  is  bright  and  spirited, 
v/ith  rapid  action,  and  consistent  development  which  brings 
the  story  to  a  logical  and  dramatic  ending. 


LIST  OF  NEW  FICTION 


The  Morning  Glory  Club.    BY  GEORGE  A. 

KYLE. 

Cloth  decorative,  with  a  colored  frontispiece  by  A.  O. 
Scott $1-25 

The  doings  of  the  Morning  Glory  Club  will  furnish  genu 
ine  amusement  to  the  reader.  Originally  formed  to  "  ele 
vate  "  the  village,  it  quickly  develops  into  an  exchange  for 
town  gossip.  It  has  a  saving  grace,  however,  in  the  person 
of  motherly  Mrs.  Stout,  the  uncultured  but  sweet-natured 
and  pure-minded  village  philosopher,  who  pours  the  oil  of 
her  saneness  and  charity  on  the  troubled  waters  of  discus 
sion  and  condemnation. 

It  is  a  series  of  clear  and  interesting  pictures  of  the  hu 
mor  of  village  life. 


The  Chronicles  of  Martin  Hewitt,  De 
tective.  NEW  ILLUSTRATED  EDITION.  BY  AR 
THUR  MORRISON,  author  of  "  The  Green  Diamond,Sy 
"  The  Red  Triangle,"  etc. 

Cloth  decorative,  with  six  full-page  drawings  by  W.  Kirk- 
patrick      ........     $1.50 

The  success  of  Mr.  Morrison's  recent  books,  "  The  Green 
Diamond  "  and  "  The  Red  Triangle,"  has  led  to  an  impera 
tive  demand  for  the  reissue  of  "  The  Chronicles  of  Martin 
Hewitt,"  which  has  been  out  of  print  for  a  number  of  years. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  Martin  Hewitt  is  the  detec 
tive  in  "  The  Red  Triangle,"  of  whom  the  New  York 
Tribune  said:  "Better  than  Sherlock  Holmes."  His  ad 
ventures  in  the  London  slums  were  of  such  a  nature  that  the 
Philadelphia  North  American  said:  "  The  reader  who  has 
a  grain  of  fancy  or  imagination  may  be  defied  to  lay  this 
book  down  once  he  has  begun  it  until  the  last  word  is 
reached." 


6  Z.  C.  PACE  &  COMPANY'S  LIST  OF  NEW  FICTION 

Mystery    Island.    By  EDWARD  H.  HURST. 

Cloth  decorative,  with  a  colored  frontispiece        .     $1.50 

A  hunting  camp  on  a  swampy  island  in  the  Florida  Ever 
glades  furnishes  the  background  for  this  present-day  tale. 

By  the  murder  of  one  of  their  number,  the  secret  of 
egress  from  the  island  is  lost,  and  the  campers  find  them 
selves  marooned. 

Cut  off  from  civilization,  conventional  veneer  soon  wears 
away.  Love,  hate,  and  revenge  spring  up,  and  after  the 
sterner  passions  have  had  their  sway  the  man  and  the  woman 
are  left  alone  to  fulfil  their  own  destiny. 

While  there  is  much  that  is  unusual  in  the  plot  and  its 
development,  Mr.  Hurst  has  handled  his  subject  with  fine 
delicacy,  and  the  tale  of  their  love  on  the  beautiful  little 
island  is  told  with  deep  sympathy  and  feeling. 


The  Flying  Cloud.  By  MORLEY  ROBERTS, 
author  of  "  The  Promotion  of  the  Admiral,"  "  Rachel 
Marr,"  "  The  Idlers,"  etc. 

Cloth  decorative,  with  a  colored  frontispiece         .     $1.50 

Mr.  Roberts's  new  book  is  much  more  than  a  ripping 
good  sea  story  such  as  might  be  expected  from  the  author 
of  "  The  Promotion  of  the  Admiral."  In  "  The  Flying 
Cloud "  the  waters  and  the  winds  are  gods  personified. 
Their  every  mood  and  phase  are  described  in  words  of  tell 
ing  force.  There  is  no  world  but  the  waste  of  waters. 

Mr.  Roberts  glories  and  exults  in  the  mystery,  the  pas 
sion,  the  strength  of  the  elements,  as  did  the  Viking  chron 
iclers  of  old.  He  understands  them  and  loves  them  and 
interprets  them  as  no  other  writer  has  heretofore  done. 
The  book  is  too  big  for  conventional  phrases.  It  needs 
Mr.  Roberts's  own  richness  of  imagery  and  masterly  ex 
pression  to  describe  adequately  the  word-pictures  in  this 
epic  of  wind  and  waves. 


Selections  from 

L.  C.  Page  and  Company's 

List  of  Fiction 


WORKS  OF 

ROBERT  NEILSON  STEPHENS 

Each  one  vol.,  library  tamo,  doth  decorative    .         .         .     $ijo 

The  Flight  of  Qeorgiana 

A  ROMANCE  OF  THE  DAYS  OF  THE  YOUNG  PRETENDER.  Illus 
trated  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 

"  A  love-story  in  the  highest  degree,  a  dashing  story,  and  a  re 
markably  well  finished  piece  of  work."  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

The  Bright  Face  of  Danger 

Being  an  account  of  some  adventures  of  Henri  de  Launay,  son  of 

the  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire.     Illustrated  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 

"  Mr.    Stephens   has  fairly   outdone    himself.       We   thank   him 

heartily.     The   story  is   nothing   if   not   spirited   and  entertaining, 

rational  and  convincing."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

Tke  Mystery  of  Murray  Davenport 

(4oth  thousand.) 

"This  is  easily  the  best  thing  that  Mr.  Stephens  has  yet  done. 
Those  familiar  with  his  other  novels  can  best  judge  the  measure  of 
this  praise,  which  is  generous."  —  Buffalo  News. 

Captain  Ravenshaw 

OR,  THE  MAID  OF  CHEAPSIDE.  (52d  thousand.)  A  romance 
of  Elizabethan  London.  Illustrations  by  Howard  Pyle  and  other 
artists. 

Not  since  the  absorbing  adventures  of  D'Artagnan  have  we  had 
anything  so  good  in  the  blended  vein  of  romance  and  comedy. 

The  Continental  Dragoon 

A  ROMANCE  OF  PHILIPSE  MANOR  HOUSE  IN  1778.  (53<1 
thousand.)  Illustrated  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 

A  stirring  romance  of  the  Revolution,  with  its  scene  laid  on 
neutral  territory. 

8 


L.    C.   PAGE   AND   COMPANY'S 


Philip  Winwood 

(7Oth  thousand.)  A  Sketch  of  the  Domestic  History  of  an 
American  Captain  in  the  War  of  Independence,  embracing  events 
that  occurred  between  and  during  the  years  1763  and  1785  in 
New  York  and  London.  Illustrated  by  E.  W.  D.  Hamilton. 

An  Enemy  to  the  King 

(7Oth  thousand.)     From  the  "  Recently  Discovered  Memoirs   of 
the  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire."     Illustrated  by  H.  De  M.  Young. 
An    historical  romance  of  the    sixteenth  century,  describing  the 

adventures  of  a  young  French  nobleman  at  the  court  of  Henry  III., 

and  on  the  field  with  Henry  IV. 

The  Road  to  Paris 

A   STORY  OF  ADVENTURE.      (3$th   thousand.)      Illustrated  by 

H.  C.  Edwards. 

An  historical  romance  of  the  eighteenth  century,  being  an  account 
of  the  life  of  an  American  gentleman  adventurer  of  Jacobite  an 
cestry. 

A  Gentleman  Player 

His  ADVENTURES  ON  A  SECRET  MISSION  FOR  QUEEN   ELIZA 
BETH.     (48th  thousand.)     Illustrated  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 
The  story  of  a  young  gentleman  who  joins  Shakespeare's  com 
pany  of  players,  and  becomes  a  friend  and   protege  of   the  great 
poet. 

WORKS  OF 

CHARLES  G,  D.  ROBERTS 

Red  Fox 

THE  STORY  OF  His  ADVENTUROUS  CAREER  IN  THE  RINGWAAK 
WILDS,  AND  OF  His  FINAL  TRIUMPH  OVER  THE  ENEMIES  OF 
His  KIND.  With  fifty  illustrations,  including  frontispiece  in 
color  and  cover  design  by  Charles  Livingston  Bull. 

Square  quarto,  cloth  decorative $2.00 

"  Infinitely  more  wholesome  reading   than   the   average   tale   of 

eport,  since  it  gives  a  glimpse  of  the  hunt  from  the  point  of  view  of 

the  hunted."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

"  True  in  substance  but  fascinating   as  fiction.     It  will  interest 

old  and  young,  city-bound  and  free-footed,  those  who  know  animals 

and  those  who  do  not."  —  Chicago  Record- Herald. 

"A  brilliant  chapter  in   natural   history."  —  Philadelphia  North 

Aiiuriean, 


LIST  OF  FICTION' 


The  Kindred  of  the  Wild 

A  BOOK  OF  ANIMAL  LIFE.     With  fifty-one  full-page  plates  and 
many  decorations  from  drawings  by  Charles  Livingston  Bull. 
Square  quarto,  decorative  cover  .....     $2.00 

"  Is  in  many  ways  the  most  brilliant  collection  of  animal  stories 
that  has  appeared;  well  named  and  well  done." — John  Burroughs, 

The  Watchers  of  the  Trails 

A  companion  volume  to  "  The   Kindred    of   the    Wild."     With 
forty-eight  full-page  plates  and  many  decorations  from  drawings 
by  Charles  Livingston  Bull. 
Square  quarto,  decorative  cover  ......     $2.00 

"  These  stories  are  exquisite  in  their  refinement,  and   yet  robust 

in  their  appreciation  of  some  of  the  rougher  phases  of  woodcraft. 

Among  the  many  writers  about  animals,  Mr.  Roberts  occupies  an 

enviable  place.  —  The  Outlook. 

"  This  is  a  book  full  of  delight.     An  additional  charm  lies  in  Mr. 

Bull's  faithful  and  graphic  illustrations,  which  in  fashion  all    their 

own  tell  the  story  of  the  wild  life,  illuminating  and  supplementing 

the  pen  pictures  of  the  author."  —  Literary  Digest. 

The  Heart  That  Knows 

Library  I2mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover          ....     $1.50 
"  A  novel  of  singularly  effective  strength,  luminous   in   literary 
color,  rich  in  its  passionate,  yet  tender  drama."  —  New  York  Globe. 

Earth's  Enigmas 

A  new  edition  of  Mr.  Roberts's  first  volume  of  fiction,  published 
in  1892,  and  out  of  print  for  several  years,  with  the  addition  of 
three  new  stories,  and  ten  illustrations  by  Charles  Livingston 
Bull. 

Library  I2mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover          ....     $1.50 
"  It    will    rank    high    among   collections   of     short   stories.      In 
'Earth's  Enigmas'  is  a  wider  range  of   subject  than  in  the  'Kin 
dred  of  the  Wild.'  " —  Review  from  advance  sheets  of  the  illustrated 
edition  by  Tiffany  Blake  in  the  Chicago  Evening  Post. 

Barbara  Ladd 

With  four  illustrations  by  Frank  Verbeck. 

Library  1 2mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover          ....     $1.50 

"  From  the  opening  chapter  to  the  final  page  Mr.  Roberts  lures 

us  on  by  his  rapt  devotion  to  the  changing  aspects  of  Nature  and 

by  his  keen  and  sympathetic  analysis  of  human  character."  —  Boston 

Transcript. 


Z.    C.  PAGE  AND    COMPANY'S 


Cameron  of  Lochiel 

Translated  from  the  French  of  Philippe  Aubert  de  Gaspe,  with 

frontispiece  in  color  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 

Library  i2mo,  cloth  decorative   ......    $1.50 

"  Professor  Roberts  deserves  the  thanks  of  his  reader  for  giving 
a.  wider  audience  an  opportunity  to  enjoy  this  striking  bit  of  French 
Canadian  literature."  —  Brooklyn  Eagle. 

"  It  is  not  often  in  these  days  of  sensational  and  philosophical 
novels  that  one  picks  up  a  book  that  so  touches  the  heart."  — 
Boston  Transcript. 

The  Prisoner  of  Mademoiselle 

With  frontispiece  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 

Library  1 2mo,  cloth  decorative,  gilt  top       ....     $1.50 

A  tale  of  Acadia,  —  a  land  which  is  the  author's  heart's  delight, 
—  of  a  valiant  young  lieutenant  and  a  winsome  maiden,  who  first 
captures  and  then  captivates. 

"  This  is  the  kind  of  a  story  that  makes  one  grow  younger,  more 
innocent,  more  light-hearted.  Its  literary  quality  is  impeccable. 
It  is  not  every  day  that  such  a  heroine  blossoms  into  even  tempo 
rary  existence,  and  the  very  name  of  the  story  bears  a  breath  of 
charm."  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

The  Heart  of  the  Ancient  Wood 

With  six  illustrations  by  James  L.  Weston. 

Library  i2mo,  decorative  cover  .....     $1.50 

"  One  of  the  most  fascinating  novels  of  recent  days."  —  Boston 
Journal. 

"  A  classic  twentieth-century  romance."  —  New  York  Commercial 
Advertiser. 

The  Forge  in  the  Forest 

Being  the  Narrative  of  the  Acadian  Ranger,  Jean  de  Mer, 
Seigneur  de  Briart,  and  how  he  crossed  the  Black  Abbe,  and  of 
his  adventures  in  a  strange  fellowship.  Illustrated  by  Henry 
Sandham,  R.  C.  A. 

Library  i2mo,  cloth,  gilt  top ^i-.^o 

A  story  of  pure  love  and  heroic  adventure. 

By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

Library  I2mo,  cloth,  gilt  top,  illustrated  ....  $1.50 
Most  of  these  romances  are  in  the  author's  lighter  and  more 

playful   vein;   each  is  a  unit  of   absorbing   interest  and   exquisite 

workmanship. 


LIST  OF  FICTION' 


A  Sister  to  Evangeline 

Being  the  Story  of  Yvonne  de  Lamourie,  and  how  she  went  into 
exile  with  the  villagers  of  Grand  Pre. 

Library  1 2mo,  cloth,   gilt  top,  illustrated     ....     $1.50 
Swift  action,  fresh  atmosphere,  wholesome  purity,  deep  passion, 
and  searching  analysis  characterize  this  strong  novel. 


WORKS  OF 

LILIAN  BELL 

Carolina  Lee 

With  a  frontispiece  in  color  from  an  oil  painting  by  Dora  Wheeler 
Keith.     Library  i2mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover    .         .         .     $1.50 
"  A  Christian  Science  novel,  full  of  action,  alive  with  incident  and 
brisk  with  pithy  dialogue  and  humor."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

"  A  charming  portrayal  of  the  attractive  life  of  the  South,  refresh 
ing  as  a  breeze  that  blows  through  a  pine  forest." — •  Albany  Times- 
Union. 

Hope  Loring 

Illustrated  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 

Library  I2mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover  ....  $1.50 
"Tall,  slender,  and  athletic,  fragile-looking,  yet  with  nerves  and 
sinews  of  steel  under  the  velvet  flesh,  frank  as  a  boy  and  tender  and 
beautiful  as  a  woman,  free  and  independent,  yet  not  bold  —  such  is 
'  Hope  Loring,'  by  long  odds  the  subtlest  study  that  has  yet  been 
made  of  the  American  girl." — Dorothy  Dix,  in  the  New  York 
American. 

Abroad  with  the  Jimmies 

With  a  portrait,  in  duogravure,  of  the  author. 
Library  1 2mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover          ....     $1.50 
"  Full  of  ozone,  of  snap,  of  ginger,  of  swing  and  momentum."  — 
Chicago  Evening  Post. 

At  Home  with  the  Jardines 

A  companion  volume  to  "  Abroad  with  the  Jimmies." 

Library  1 2mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover $1.50 

"  Bits  of  gay  humor,  sunny,  whimsical  philosophy,  and  keen  in 
dubitable  insight  into  the  less  evident  aspects  and  workings  of  pure 
human  nature,  with  a  slender  thread  of  a  cleverly  extraneous  love 
story,  keep  the  interest  of  the  reader  fresh." —  Chicago  Record 
Herald. 


L.    C.   PAGE   AND    COMPANY'S 


The  Interference  of  Patricia 

With  a  frontispiece  from  drawing  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 

Small  1 2mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover $l-^5 

"  There  is  life  and  action  and  brilliancy  and  dash  and  cleverness 
and  a  keen  appreciation  of  business  ways  in  this  story." —  Grand 
Rapids  Herald. 

"  A  story  full  of  keen  and  flashing  satire."  —  Chicago  Record- 
Herald. 

A  Book  of  Girls 

With  a  frontispiece. 

Small  i2mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover $l-25 

"  The  stories  are  all  eventful  and  have  effective  humor."  —  New 
York  Sun. 

"  Lilian  Bell  surely  understands  girls,  for  she  depicts  all  the  varia 
tions  of  girl  nature  so  charmingly." —  Chicago  Journal. 

The  above  two  volumes  boxed  in  special  holiday  dress,  per  set,  $230 


WORKS  OF 

ALICE  MacGOWAN  AND  GRACE  Mac- 
GOWAN  COOKE 

Return 

A  STORY  OF  THE  SEA  ISLANDS  IN  1739.  With  six  illustrations 

by  C.  D.  Williams. 

Library  iamo,  cloth $1.50 

"  So  rich  in  color  is  this  story,  so  crowded  with  figures,  it  seems 
like  a  bit  of  old  Italian  wall  painting,  a  piece  of  modern  tapestry, 
rather  than  a  modern  fabric  woven  deftly  from  the  threads  of  fact 
and  fancy  gathered  up  in  this  new  and  essentially  practical  country, 
and  therein  lies  its  distinctive  value  and  excellence." — A7.  Y.  Sun. 

"  At  once  tender,  thrilling,  picturesque,  philosophical,  and  dra 
matic.  One  of  the  most  delightful  romances  we  have  had  in  many 
a  day."  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

The  Grapple 

With  frontispiece  in  color  by  Arthur  W.  Brown. 

Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative $i-S° 

"  The  movement  of  the  tale  is  swift  and  dramatic.  The  story  is 
so  original,  so  strong,  and  so  finely  told  that  it  deserves  a  large  and 
thoughtful  public.  It  is  a  book  to  read  with  both  enjoyment  and 
enlightenment."  —  N.  Y.  Times  Saturday  Review  of  Books. 


LIST  OF  FICTION 


The  Last  Word 

Illustrated  with  seven  portraits  of  the  heroine. 

Library  1 2ino,  cloth,  decorative  cover $i-S° 

"When  one  receives  full  measure  to  overflowing  of  delight  in  a 
tender,  charming,  and  wholly  fascinating  new  piece  of  fiction,  the 
enthusiasm  is  apt  to  come  uppermost."  —  Louisville  Post. 

Huldah 

With  illustrations  by  Fanny  Y.  Cory. 

Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative    .         .         .         .         .         .     $1.50 

Here  we  have  the  great-hearted,  capable  woman  of  the  Texas 
plains  dispensing  food  and  genial  philosophy  to  rough-and-ready 
cowboys.  Her  sympathy  takes  the  form  of  happy  laughter,  and 
her  delightfully  funny  phrases  amuse  the  fancy  and  stick  in  one's 
memory.  

WORKS  OF 

MORLEY  ROBERTS 

Rachel  Marr 

Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative    ......     $1.50 

"  A  novel  of  tremendous  force,  with  a  style  that  is  sure,  luxuriant, 

compelling,   full   of  color  and   vital   force."  —  Elia    W.  Peattie,  in 

Chicago  Tribune. 
"  In  atmosphere,  if  nothing  else,  the  story  is  absolutely  perfect." 

—  Boston  Transcript. 

Lady  Penelope 

With  nine  illustrations  by  Arthur  W.  Brown. 

Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative $1.50 

"  A  fresh  and  original  bit  of  comedy  as  amusing  as  it  is  auda 
cious." —  Boston  Transcript. 

The  Idlers 

With  frontispiece  in  color  by  John  C.  Frohn. 

Library  1 2mo,  cloth  decorative $1.50 

"  In  '  The  Idlers '  Mr.  Morley  Roberts  does  for  the  smart  set  of 
London  what  Mrs.  Wharton  has  done  in  '  The  House  of  Mirth  '  for 
the  American  social  class  of  the  same  name.  ...  It  is  a  powerful 
novel,  a  merciless  dissection  of  modern  society  similar  to  that  which  a 
skilled  surgeon  would  make  of  a  pathological  case." —  The  London 
Literary  World. 

"  It  is  as  absorbing  as  the  devil.  Mr.  Roberts  gives  us  the  an 
tithesis  of  '  Rachel  Marr '  in  an  equally  masterful  and  convincing 
work." —  The  New  York  Sun. 

"It  is  a  work  of  great  ethical  force." — Professor  Charles  G.  D. 
Roberts, 


8 L.    C.   PAGE  AND    COMPANY'S 

The  Promotion  of  the  Admiral 

By  MORLEY  ROBERTS. 

Library  1 2mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated.        .        .         .    $1.50 

"  If  any  one  writes  better  sea  stories  than  Mr.  Roberts,  we  don't 
know  who  it  is ;  and  if  there  is  a  better  sea  story  of  its  kind  than 
this  it  would  be  a  joy  to  have  the  pleasure  of  reading  it."  —  New 
York  Sun. 

"  There  is  a  hearty  laugh  in  every  one  of  these  stories."  —  The 
Reader. 

"  To  read  these  stories  is  a  tonic  for  the  mind ;  the  stories  are 
gems,  and  for  pith  and  vigor  of  description  they  are  unequalled."  — 
N.  Y.  Commercial  Advertiser. 


WORKS  OF 

STEPHEN  CONRAD 

The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 

By  STEPHEN  CONRAD.     With  a  frontispiece  by  Ernest  Fosbery. 
Large  i6mo,  cloth  decorative $1.00 

Here  is  a  character  as  original  and  witty  as  "  Mr.  Dooley  "  or 
"  the  self-made  merchant."  The  realm  of  humorous  fiction  is 
now  invaded  by  the  stepmother. 

"It  is  an  exceptionally  clever  piece  of  work."  —  Boston  Tran 
script. 

" '  The  Second  Mrs.  Jim  '  is  worth  as  many  Mrs.  Wiggses  as 
could  be  crowded  into  the  Cabbage  Patch.  The  racy  humor  and 
cheerfulness  and  wisdom  of  the  book  make  it  wholly  delightful."  — 
Philadelphia  Press. 

Mrs.  Jim  and  Mrs.  Jimmie 

With  a  frontispiece  in  colors  by  Arthur  W.  Brown. 

Library  1 2mo,  cloth  decorative   ......     $1.50 

This  book  is  in  a  sense  a  sequel  to  "  The  Second  Mrs.  Jim," 
since  it  gives  further  glimpses  of  that  delightful  stepmother  and  her 
philosophy. 

"  Plenty  of  fun  and  humor  in  this  book.  Plenty  of  simple  pathos 
and  quietly  keen  depiction  of  human  nature  afford  contrast,  and 
every  chapter  is  worth  reading.  It  is  a  very  human  account  of 
life  in  a  small  country  town,  and  the  work  should  be  commended 
for  those  sterling  qualities  of  heart  and  naturalness  so  endearing  to 
many." —  Chicago  Record- Herald. 


LIST  OF  FICTION 


"WORKS  OF 

ARTHUR  MORRISON 

The  Green  Diamond 

Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  with  six  illustrations  .     $1.50 

"  A  detective  story  of  unusual  ingenuity  and  intrigue."  —  Brooklyn 

Eagle. 

The  Red  Triangle 

Being  some  further  chronicles  of  Martin  Hewitt,  investigator. 

Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative    ......     $1.50 

"Better  than  Sherlock  Holmes."  —  Neiv  York  Tribune. 

"The  reader  who  has  a  grain  of  fancy  or  imagination  may  be  de 
fied  to  lay  this  book  down,  once  he  has  begun  it,  until  the  last  word 
has  been  reached."  —  Philadelphia  North  American. 


WORKS  OF 

G.  SIDNEY  PATERNOSTER 

The  Motor  Pirate 

Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  with  frontispiece        .         .     $1.50 
"  Its  originality,  exciting  adventures,  into  which  is  woven  a  charm 
ing  love    theme,   and   its    undercurrent   of   fun   furnish   a  dashing 
detective  story  which   a   motor-mad  world   will   thoroughly   enjoy 
reading."  —  Boston  Herald. 

The  Cruise  of  the  Motor-Boat  Conqueror 

Being  the  Further  Adventures  of  the  Motor  Pirate. 

Library  I2ino,  cloth  decorative,  with  a  frontispiece  by  Frank  T. 

Merrill $1.50 

"As  a  land  pirate  Mannering  was  a  marvel  of  resource,  but  as  a 
sea-going  buccaneer  he  is  almost  a  miracle  of  devilish  ingenuity. 
His  exploits  are  wonderful  and  plausible,  for  he  avails  himself  of 
every  modern  device  and  applies  recent  inventions  to  the  accomplish 
ment  of  all  his  pet  schemes."  —  Chicago  Evening  Post. 


10  L.    C.   PAGE   AND    COMPANY'S 

WORKS  OF 

T.  JENKINS  HAINS 

The  Black  Barque 

With  five  illustrations  by  W.  Herbert  Dunton. 

Library  I2mo,  cloth    ........     $1.50 

According  to  a  high  naval  authority,  whose  name  must  be  with 
held,  this  is  one  of  the  best  sea  stories  ever  offered  to  the  public. 
"  The  Black  Barque  "  is  a  story  of  slavery  and  piracy  upon  the  high 
seas  about  1815,  and  is  written  with  a  thorough  knowledge  of  deep- 
water  sailing. 

The  Windjammers 

Library  i2mo,  cloth  ........     $1.50 

"  A  collection  of  short  sea  stories  unmatched  for  interest."  —  New 
York  Sun. 

The  Voyage  of  the  Arrow 

With  six  illustrations  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 

Library  I2mo,  cloth $1.50 

"  A  capital  story,  full  of  sensation  and  excitement,  and  a  rollicking 
sea  story  of  the  good  old-fashioned  sort.  The  reader  who  begins 
this  exciting  voyage  will  sail  on  at  the  rate  of  twelve  knots  an  hour 
until  it  is  finished."  —  Boston  Transcript. 


WORKS  OF 

REGINALD  WRIGHT  KAUFFMAN 

Miss  Frances  Baird,  Detective 

A  PASSAGE  FROM  HER  MEMOIRS. 

Library   I2mo,  cloth   decorative,  with    a  frontispiece  by  W.   F. 

Kirkpatrick $1.25 

"  Miss  Baird  ravels  and  unravels  circumstantial  evidence  in  her 
search  for  the  murderer  in  a  most  bewildering  and  thoroughly  fem 
inine  fashion.  .  .  .  The  story  is  brimful  of  excitement,  and  no  little 
ingenuity  is  displayed  in  its  construction."  —  Boston  Herald. 

Jarvis  of  Harvard 

Illustrated  by  Robert  Edwards. 

Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative $1-50 

A  strong  and  well  written  novel,  dealing  with  the  life  of  a  young 
man  in  a  modern  college.  Studies,  athletics,  social  life,  and  the 
outside  influences  surrounding  the  youth  of  a  college  town  are  clearly 
depicted. 

"  Mr.  Kauffman's  treatment  of  his  subject  is  dignified,  restrained, 
sincere,  and  in  admirable  good  taste  throughout."  —  New  York  Mail 
and  Express, 


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